


Spyfall

by LittleMissSyreid



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dark, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, France (Country), Happy Ending, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Relationships, Marvel Universe, Mugging, Paris (City), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Romance, SHIELD, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, domestic!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9171958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissSyreid/pseuds/LittleMissSyreid
Summary: The Avengers work in the public eye - and Bucky Barnes has made some very public "mistakes". Despite his friendship with Steve, they simply cannot hire him whilst he's viewed as a villain. Instead, they persuade the newly reformed version of S.H.I.E.L.D. to take him on as a new recruit where he can prove that he is a changed man. You're his new partner, and his only chance at making it big with the World's Mightiest Heroes. Will your relationship survive a seemingly impossible first mission?





	1. Chapter 1

“Sergeant James Barnes?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Welcome to the new S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ.”

This was it. The big day. The one he’d been waiting for.

The organisation’s headquarters were new to Bucky for a whole other reason. Though Steve was keen on enlisting him to the Avengers, the world’s perception of the ex-Winter Soldier was still questionable, thus his initiation with the team had been postponed until further notice. The Avengers were founded upon the public’s trust and for the sake of transparency, pasts such as his could not be ignored, even if they were intertwined with the team’s oldest member.

It was Natasha’s idea to put him through S.H.I.E.L.D. training. She drew on her own history when she suggested, offering that perhaps the idea would sit better with the people if it was Bucky the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent who was entering the team, over Bucky the ex-Assassin.

The man who led him was tall and thin. Wiry grey hair was pulled over his scalp in a less-than-subtle attempt to make up for that which was already missing. For an elderly gentleman, he was lean and muscular but walked with a very faint limp in his left leg, suggesting he’d probably suffered an injury in the field that had resigned him to desk work.

Bucky followed the man through several rooms - firstly the garage, where trucks and cars of all varieties lay in wait of drivers, then they passed through the armour and munitions warehouse, until finally they reached what appeared to be a control room. A hub of activity, people in varying suits and outfits hustled and bustled about the room carrying files and boxes or having important conversations.

“This is our control room,” the man explained. His name was John Peters. “Our agents are hand selected nowadays. We’ve got less staff than ever but their drive is unparalleled.”

Bucky said nothing as they walked. He didn’t know what he could possibly add. Despite everything, he still felt out of place in the building. In another time or another place, he might’ve been fighting these people or at the least working against them. Banishing the thoughts from his head, Bucky forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Agent Peters led him to a small cubicle in the corner with an old-fashioned desktop computer on the desk next to a couple of stacks of dusty papers. In the corner is a trash can filled with empty coffee cups.

Peters picked up a name-badge, a lanyard, and a pistol. He hesitated briefly, looking Bucky up and down before handing all three to him. Bucky didn’t need to guess what Agent Peters was thinking when he hesitated.  
“I hope the Captain is right about you,” Peters sighs. Bucky could imagine that he’d be anxious. With a team of reliable, hand-selected agents under his command, Bucky must seem like a huge risk. He appreciated that so far Peters had said nothing.  
“Me too, sir.”

Peters nodded.  
“Honest. That’s good. But it’s not me you’ve got to get on with.”  
“Sir?”  
“After me, Barnes. It’s time you met your partner.”

Peters held the door open and Bucky stepped inside, keeping his hands behind his back to maintain his formality. The room was big – not massive, but big. It felt smaller on account of the two desks that took up the majority of the space, one against the left wall, and the other against the right. The wall straight ahead of Bucky had a large, empty corkboard hanging on it and a window adjacent to it let light spill into the room. Aside from that it was bare. A fresh start.

Stood behind the desk on his right was a woman, whose face was warmed by the sun from the window. She wore tall crimson heels underneath a black skirt that was slightly higher at the front than at the back. A white chiffon shirt was tucked into it and flattered her waist beautifully. She bent over to pull ornaments out of a carboard box by her feet and placed them purposefully on the desk. Immediately the cherry wood gained some personality. A dainty porcelain statuette of a Dalmatian sat on its hind legs looked up at Bucky with gorgeous brown eyes. Several note pads went into the desk drawers. A potted plant went in the window sill. Two small photo frames and a pot of pens later, and the woman finally noticed that she had company.

“Agent Barnes, this is Agent (Y/l/n). She will be your partner here at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Peters announced. The woman dusted off her skirt (though she needn’t have bothered. The material was pristine) and offered him her hand. He shook it and nodded politely. She smiled back at him and her eyes twinkled.  
“I’ll leave you to unpack then. Report to my office in an hour and we’ll get you briefed on your first assignment.”

Once Peters had left the room, Bucky’s heart sunk. It occurred to him that he was alone. He knew nobody here. He had nothing to -  
“Hey, you gonna stand there all day?” You asked. You’d been watching him ever since Peters had left the room and he seemed… lost.

You pointed helpfully to the other desk in the room and he turned with a glazed expression towards it. He blinked. There was a box. A cardboard box with his name on it. Trudging across the room, he pulled open the topmost folds and peered inside, pulling out a note.  
‘ _Good luck on your first day_ ,’ it said, in Steve’s swirly-wirly handwriting.

“You okay over there?” You asked and he nodded gently. After a few seconds, he started pulling things out of the box and realised that Steve had pulled stuff together for him. A monochromatic picture of the two of them, a newly bought pack of ballpoint pens, and what appeared to be a small Iron Man figurine – though it occurred to him shortly after that it was most likely a real Iron Man suit which Scott Lang had been let near.

Bucky smirked and placed the figure down gently. He’d return it at some point. Also in the box was a coffee mug with cookie slot, a small analogue clock, a desk calendar, and a lamp. It was very basic stuff but as soon as he stepped away, Bucky felt a surge of emotion in the pit of his stomach. He’d never had an office before, much less a desk or anything to put on it. It may have been simple and quick but it was a big deal to him. This was going to be the start of something good, he promised himself. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

You lowered yourself into the seat behind your desk and removed your left shoe for a moment. As nice as the heels made you look and feel, there was always the debate of whether the pain was worth it. For your first day, you’d decided that it was, even if you risked falling on your face.

“Would you mind if I took my shoes off altogether?” You asked. You were going to be seeing a lot of this guy. You might as well get comfortable now.  
“By all means.”  
“Thanks.”

You checked your watch and sighed. You had 45 minutes to kill until your briefing and your new partner seemed… quiet.  
“Nice mug.” You said, pointing at his cookie cup. “Want to go and find something to fill it with?” Bucky had just kicked the empty carboard box under his desk. He looked up at you and smiled timidly.  
“Okay.”

You had a nose for finding food and the staff room was even closer than you could’ve hoped for. You poured some drinks and even stole a few cookies from a cupboard so that you could ‘test drive’ the pocket on Bucky’s cup. You returned to your office but entertained little conversation as the time ticked on.

“We should probably go,” Bucky said eventually, looking at his clock. “Technically we don’t have to be there for 10 minutes, but-”  
“I have _no_ problem with going early. I’d rather that than be late.”

Bucky smirked to himself as you stood up and put your heels back on. He wished that he’d spoken to you more. If you thought similarly on as many other things, perhaps this whole partnering situation wouldn’t be so bad after all. Perhaps he would have a 21st century friend that Steve _hadn’t_ introduced to him first.

“Hey,” you said softly, lingering at the door and playing with your lanyard, “you coming?” Bucky grinned and let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Peters stood up from his desk when he saw the two of you arrive. He picked up the folder of information and waved you over.  
“Ready?” You asked, sucking in a breath.  
“As much as I can be.”

You stood before your superior with your hands behind your back and your feet shoulder-width apart. Maybe you were too confident, but you didn’t care. You’d been waiting for this.  
“Welcome agents,” Peters announced. His office consisted of a cubicle at the edge of the control room so there was a slight informality to the briefing as he attempted to be heard over the murmur of every other agent in the room. The cubicle walls could only do so much to block out the noise. He’d got an office close to the action at the cost of privacy. Your office looked better and better every second.

“I’ll keep this concise as I expect you’ll have a lot to do. Firstly, let me be clear -” His eyes focused, “-there are better agents than you. There are more experienced agents than you. Any one of them could have earnt this assignment but they did not. You were. You were chosen because you represent a… _unique_ pairing. Miss (Y/l/n) with your experiences, and Mr Barnes with your history. You are both potentially some of the greatest agents this organisation will ever train and we would be fools to waste the opportunity.

“So here we are. Yesterday, a shipment of weapons were stolen from a ship passing through the English Channel. We believe that the thieves have the intention of selling the weapons. We want you to locate the thieves, find the seller, and get the weapons.”

Bucky nodded obediently.  
“Yes, sir.”

You turned to look at him, and he caught your gaze with confusion. After raising an eyebrow, you turned slowly back to your superior.  
“Forgive my impertinence but… a weapons trade-off? Isn’t that a job for the police or the FBI?”  
“Yes. It would be, however…”  
“Oh, I see,” you said, rolling your shoulders and lifting your chin a little higher. “They’re S.H.I.E.L.D.’s weapons.”

Bucky blinked. Why hadn’t he picked up on that? Surely that was a question he could’ve asked; so why did it feel like a surprising question? He felt yet another sinking feeling in his stomach again. His entire career in HYDRA had involved following orders. Being obedient. Apparently, that alone wouldn’t suffice here. If he wanted to shine, he couldn’t just be smart. He had to be _clever_. His past was no excuse. Thinking on his feet and noticing things were requirements now. If he didn’t give this his all then he’d be insulting every other agent who wanted to be where he was.

Bucky took a deep breath. _Try again_ , he reminded himself. _You can do this._

“We were transporting some new tech to some of our higher-level agents in Amsterdam but the boat was intercepted and robbed. We don’t know who by. After they left, our captain pulled into the nearest dock – Calais – and reported the theft. Our nearest team arrived the day after to help.”  
“Was anyone injured?” Bucky asked.  
“Good question. Obviously, several of the agents on board attempted to intercept the arrest, despite the risks. Those who did are in the infirmary with wounds.”  
“What injuries?”  
“We could see the men were armed in security footage but where possible they used brute force over their munitions.”

“They knew that the bullets could identify them…” You sighed.  
“Which means they’re professionals.” Bucky added which earnt a nod from his partner; the fact that you seemed to know as much as him was reassuring.

“Was anything else taken?”  
“Got a list of the stolen good in here,” Peters said, placing the folder down in front of you, “as well as a list of the crew members on board at the time, and the report from the forensic team who examined the boat afterwards.”

You picked up the folder and looked at Bucky with thin lips. This folder was the start of a long career together. Here’s hoping it would start you well.  
“Good luck agents. We’re expecting great things from you. Don’t let us down,” Peters said, dismissing you.  
“Sir.”  
“Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Bucky shut the office door behind him and you sighed heavily. Kicking off your heels once again, you pulled your desk chair out and sat yourself on the other side of Bucky’s desk. Gathering up courage again, he too sat down and watched you spill out the contents of the folder. As well as what you’d already been told about, there was also a DVD entitled ‘CCTV’.

“You got a PC?” You asked him and Bucky looked slightly flustered.  
“Uh, no. I don’t.”  
“Oh, right. You’re… vintage,” you smirked. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Whilst you collected your little laptop from a small satchel by your desk, Bucky wondered exactly how much you’d been told about your partner. He’d ask you at some point but right now he wanted to focus everything on your assignment. You returned with your computer as well as a tub of drawing pins.  
“I’m thinking that computing probably isn’t your strong point.”  
“You’d be right.”

You laughed softly and handed him the plastic box.  
“Start fixing things up on the board. If you spot anything odd, don’t hesitate to shout it out. Meanwhile, I’ll have a look at this footage.”

You watched the tape once, twice, and began a third time as Bucky placed the last pin in the board. He’d read each piece of paper as he’d pinned it up and spotted nothing extraordinary there either. The inventory listed everything missing – guns, espionage technology, and even things he hadn’t heard of. Sensing that his hunt was futile, he elected to see how you were doing, leaning on the back of your chair and watching the CCTV over your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you sighed when the VT stopped.  
“We’ll get ‘em,” Bucky reassured you, placing a hand on your shoulder. When he felt you tense, he wondered whether he’d overstepped his boundaries and retracted his hand. Thankfully, you moved swiftly on.

“We just need another angle.”  
“What about talking to the agents aboard the ship? There’s a chance one of them might’ve seen a face or heard a name that the cameras won’t have picked up.”

You looked at the corkboard where Bucky had organised all the evidence you had so far.  
“That’s… not a bad shout. Some of them are in the infirmary but there’s a few who might be able to talk to us.”

You stood up from your chair and pulled the list down. Bucky grunted. Now his nicely organised corkboard was missing a piece. You typed a couple of names into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database on your laptop and tapped the screen with a smile.

“Her. Alice Rose. The boat was in foreign waters at the time and she speaks about a dozen languages. She’d have had the best chance of overhearing a hushed conversation and – more importantly – understanding it.”

“Where’s her office?” Bucky asked. A couple more clicks gave you the answer and begrudgingly put your shoes back on. Tomorrow you’d definitely wear something less… flashy.

With the newly discovered lead, your partner’s mood had been lifted. He was halfway out the door before you’d even stood up. You sighed, smiled, and moved to your desk drawer for a notepad and pen. If your partner was always this energetic with each lead, you were going to be burnt out by the end of the week.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite their efforts and good intentions, as well as their excitable mood, Alice Rose offered nothing they didn’t already know. The phone call had been amicable but fruitless.   
“I’m sorry,” she’d said after their questions has been exhausted. “That’s all I know. The guys were French – but you knew that, I suppose. They tied us up until they’d got what they wanted and if they did speak about the job, it was out of earshot.”

Bucky slammed the office door behind him and ran a hand through his hair. You turned to look at him and put your hands on your hips.   
“Tantrums won’t get us anywhere,” you snapped, watching his metal hand grip the doorknob fiercely. With a gentle sigh, Bucky let his tensions melt away and turned to face you. He felt it necessary to apologise but you quickly dismissed it. “Just put that energy to good use.”

He ran his hands down his face and huffed. You watched him drop into his seat and fold his arms.   
“Should we perhaps contact the French authorities?”  
“And say what? ‘Hey, so we may or may not have been moving guns and bomb past you. Better yet, we lost them!’”

Bucky grunted.   
“Well I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas,” he snapped.

He hated the words as they left his mouth. They took you by surprise too. Licking your lips, you folded your arms and turned away from him, deciding to direct your glare out of the window rather than in his direction. He kept silent as you leant against the window frame and sighed calmly.

His stomach sunk so fast that he was surprised nobody else heard it plummet. This was supposed to be his big opportunity – the chance to build trust amongst his peers – and he’d already pissed off the only friend he’d managed to make. Or so he thought.

“We… We just have to think about this subjectively,” you said calmly. Bucky looked up at you. Were you going to forgive him? Just like that? You kept your back turned as you spoke. “We’re trying to do this too quickly, too eagerly, like the answer is obvious but I think we both know that it’s not.”  
“Okay,” he replied. Granted, he may have just been agreeing so that he could make amends but he was also lacking any sort of new direction for the case.

“Let’s try taking a step back,” he suggested. This time you turned around, sitting yourself on the sill of the window.   
“We’re solving a crime at square one. How do we step back from that without missing the event entirely?”

Bucky tapped his chin.   
“Maybe that’s exactly what we _should_ be doing. We’re trying to solve this from the present, working backwards. Perhaps we could try starting from before the event and working our way forward instead.”

“Alright Holmes,” you smirked. “That’s not a horrible idea.”  
“Let’s start with that CCTV again, shall we?”

You protested a few times, having grown sick of the same grey images but Bucky ultimately convinced you to endure them one more time. For good reason, it seemed. His finger rushed to the space bar and paused the video.   
“How do you go back?” He asked, and you rewound the video a few seconds at his request.

You squinted to try and see what had caught his attention, only for your face to fall when he yelled:   
“There! Did you see it?”

He made you watch the same clip over and over, refusing to tell you what was apparently so blindingly obvious until he was satisfied that you truly couldn’t see it.   
“Watch the walls. Just there. See how they get a little lighter for a split second?”  
“I thought that was just the camera quality. The picture is grainy as hell; it wouldn’t surprise me if the lighting was off too.”

“No, see-” he hit the space bar just as the walls got a little lighter, “-here you can see a shadow, and this half of the screen stays basically the same and… I don’t know maybe it is just the technology.”   
“No, no, you’re right. I can see it. You’re right.”

Bucky’s head slowly turned to you. The words shouldn’t have meant as much to him as they did but… He was right. His instincts were telling him something and it was right. Better still, he had a partner who was encouraging him to follow those instincts, even when 5 minutes ago he’d snapped at and insulted her.

“If this is the case then that means someone took a shot.”  
“Was anyone in the infirmary with gun wounds?” You jumped to the corkboard and looked over the list of crewmembers.   
“No. Couple of cracked ribs and black eyes but nothing major aside from that.” Bucky leapt to her side and pulled down the forensic reports.

“No record of any gunpowder here, or bullet casings.”  
“So either the bullet disappeared in thin air-”  
“Or they missed.”

Bucky grabbed his lanyard and was making for the door with fervour once more. It was becoming habit that every new lead gave him energy anew. You pulled out your phone and followed him.   
“We need to have a look at that ship again.”   
“It should still be docked in Calais but if I can get the captain to – Hi, is that Jack Mirror? Yes, hi, this is Agent (Y/l/n) of S.H.I.E.L.D. and I’m investigating the robbery of your ship. Are you still nearby?”

Bucky bit his lip and watched your face for clues. After a second, you gave him a thumbs up.   
“Fantastic. Would you be able to get there in, say, the next hour?”

* * *

 

It didn’t take you long to find a conference room with a large enough screen. You watched the monitor intently as Captain Jack Mirror moved his phone around the corridors. The video call was no better quality than the CCTV but it was live at least and allowed you to search the premises from another continent.

“Is this the corridor?” Mirror asked. You turned to Bucky whose eyes were narrowed. He seemed to spot something and nod slowly.   
“Yes, Jack. That’s it. Can you step back? Give us a clear view of as much as possible.”

“What are we looking for ma’am?”   
“Good question, well presented,” you chuckled. “My partner will know it when he sees it.”

Bucky flashed you an appreciative smile. He looked at the monitor again and tried to think back to the flash. If it was faint then the gunman was at least a good distance from the security camera. He said as much to you.   
“Mr Mirror, is there a CCTV camera anywhere nearby?”   
“Yes ma’am, just above my head.”   
“Perfect. Can you start walking away from it down the hallway and point that camera the direction you’re walking?”

Slowly, the footage shifted and the walls of the ship’s corridor surpassed them bit by bit. Every so often, Jack Mirror would check in to see if he should stop but Bucky shook his head gently and the former pressed on. After walking in a straight line for some time, Mirror neared a set of cupboards that were inset to the wall on the right.

“Stop,” Bucky commanded and his words were followed. The footage froze. He turned to you. “Picture it: you’re the gunman. You’re forced to fire a shot and the shell hits the ground, right?”   
“Right.”  
“Forensics sweep the corridor and find nothing, right?”   
“Right.”  
“Because if a bullet had dropped it would stay where it landed, right?”  
“Right.”

“Wrong,” Bucky smirked. You rolled your eyes.   
“You’re on a ship in the English Channel, with waves rocking the boat too and fro… So any cylindrical items that would just so happen to be lying on the floor would-”

In the excitement of your realisation, you too stood up. The room was dark save for the light of the projector as it broadcast the video call – yet you could still see the glitter of adrenaline in your partner’s eyes.   
“Mirror, would you do me a favour and look under that cupboard to your right please?”

The shell was bagged, tagged, and sent away to the lab. You thanked Mirror profusely and prescribed him some rest, promising him simultaneously that his efforts would lead to the culprits of his trauma. Jack Mirror hung up and the projector switched itself off, leaving you and Bucky in the darkened conference room.

A second of silence passed before you jumped for joy and wrapped your arms around Bucky. He spun you around and you both laughed with glee. Once your feet were firmly back on the ground, you punched Bucky’s shoulder playfully.   
“Good job, Holmes.”


	4. Chapter 4

After a hard day’s work, food was about the only thing on your mind. You placed your name badge and lanyard into your desk drawer and pulled your coat off of the back of your desk chair.   
“Got much planned tonight?” You asked Bucky as he lifted his arms and stretched.   
“No. I’m meeting a friend but that’s it.”

You awaited further elaboration but Bucky bent over to tie his shoelace instead. With a sigh, you fastened your coat, picked up your satchel and walked over to his desk as he regained his posture.   
“Do you want to go out for some food?”

“You’re… asking me out?” He stammered.   
“We worked well today and we should celebrate a little. What do you say?”   
“I don’t know… My friend…”  
“Invite him too,” you said casually, making for the door. Bucky gathered his things quickly so he could keep up. As he accompanied you towards the exit, he pulled out his phone to text Steve.

The taxi ride to the restaurant was quiet. It occurred to both of you simultaneously that you’d spoken of nothing but work since you’d been partnered. By the time you’d come up with anything mildly discussion-worthy, you’d reached your destination.   
“Will your friend find this place okay?”  
“I think so,” Bucky said as he followed you inside. “He shouldn’t be too long.”

The building hit you with warmth and a lovely salty smell of dishes already served. Lambs above each table bathed the room in an amber glow. Red carpet matched the red tablecloths, which was soft to the touch, you realised, as you were seated at the booth. Its leather seats squeaked as you shuffled further into them.

You spent plenty of time distracting yourself with the menu. Once drinks and starters had been ordered, you sat in silence again. As Bucky’s mind begged Steve to hurry up and join them, it occurred to him that he’d been missing an obvious topic of conversation for ages.   
“So, I wanted to ask…” You looked up at him and smiled curtly. “What exactly did they tell you about me?”

You tilted your head. Bucky scratched his own.   
“I just mean… You said I was ‘vintage’.”  
“Oh, that,” you laughed nervously. “Well, I guess I could ask you the same thing. Were you told anything about me?”

Bucky shook his head.   
“I was a… last minute applicant.”

The waiter placed down two glasses on the table. You sipped at your cider whilst Bucky pulled the slice of lemon out of his water.   
“That explains a lot. To answer your question, they didn’t even tell me who my partner was until that morning when I arrived. I didn’t need to do any background research.”  
“You didn’t?”   
“My dad’s a history professor.”  
“Ah.”

You smiled into your drink as you sipped a little more of it. Though Bucky had more questions he was itching to ask, he forced himself to mind his manners and wait for you attention once more.   
“What about my more… _recent_ history?”

You raised an eyebrow. You knew what he was asking. You just didn’t quite know how he wanted you to answer. After a little deliberation, you decided that honesty was the best policy.   
“I am aware of your time with HYDRA, if that’s what you’re asking, yes.”  
“Good. Because I wouldn’t know how to bring it up otherwise.”

“Though I don’t know exactly how you made it there, nor how you made it to this decade for that matter. Unlike Captain America, it’s not as common knowledge.”  
“It’s… not an area I’ve deliberated much either.”  
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Bucky nodded slowly.   
“Thanks.”

“I do have one question, though, if that’s alright.”  
“That depends on the question,” he smirked, taking a sip of his water and realising how thirsty you were after the long day you’d had.   
“Why join S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Bucky set down his drink and furrowed his brow slightly. It hadn’t been a question he’d expected but nonetheless it hadn’t come out of nowhere.   
“I’m… not the person HYDRA made me out to be,” he explained softly. “I am told that I was once a good man. A soldier. A patriot. And that I almost died fulfilling those duties. Most of the public seem to have forgotten that, or at the most, disregarded it. I hurt people, and I killed people. I know that. Their faces haunt me every time I close my eyes and I intend to make amends for that. I will take responsibility for what I’ve done, but… I need to be given the chance to do so. S.H.I.E.L.D. is that chance.”

You stayed silent for a minute or so after Bucky had finished speaking. You couldn’t tell whether he felt embarrassed or whether he’d shared more than he meant to but he sipped his drink frequently, avoiding eye-contact.

You were saved when a man with tatty blond hair appeared in front of your table.   
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Steve said with a smile.

“You’re… Captain America.”

In retrospect, you couldn’t have sounded more like an idiot but in the presence of such an idol, your ability to form cognitive thoughts momentarily faltered. Steve brushed it off like he was used to it, greeted Bucky, and then proceeded to slide his way into the booth next to you. As a result, Bucky was forced to slide much closer to you. The look on his face said that after his confession, the thought of getting closer to you was the opposite of appealing.

Steve took his time sliding into his seat and you took the opportunity to place a hand on Bucky’s thigh. All the colour drained from his face.   
“For what it’s worth,” you whispered whilst Steve perused the menu, “I don’t blame you for your past. You did what you had to.”

Pink warmed Bucky’s cheeks and you afforded him a few moments to himself by distracting Steve with an introduction. Once he’d begun introducing himself to you (though he needn’t have bothered), Bucky caught your gaze and whispered a thank you.

* * *

 

The next day, Bucky entered your office to find you already there and sipping a mug of tea. Your outfit was drastically different to that of the day before – a small grey tee with black cargo trousers and a thick belt. Your walking boots were kicked up on the desk. It was definitely not what you had worn the day before.

Needless to say you were far more comfortable in your current garb; perhaps that was why you were in such a good mood. Well, that and some other news.   
“Check it out,” you said, pointing to the envelope at the edge of your desk. “It was here when I arrived.”   
“Are you always early for work?”   
“When I can be, yes.”

Bucky scanned the paper with great interest and his mouth fell open.   
“Is this…?”   
“You bet. Lab got a gun calibre and a barely-identifiable fingerprint from that one bullet casing. Can you believe it?”

“What do we do with that information?” He asked, pinning the paper onto the corkboard as he spoke. Though he’d never admit it aloud, he was proud of how organised the board was. He wanted to believe it would make the case easier.

“He’s French, as we thought, but we’ve got nothing else on the guy. Seems Brian Amaretto is lying low.”   
“Don’t blame him,” Bucky chuckled, “if he’s responsible for robbing a S.H.I.E.L.D. cargo ship.”

“We’ve got a list here of places that sell a Colt Model 933 in Paris, Amaretto’s last known location. I’ve spoken to finance and arranged everything. We’ll be in Paris for two weeks, so pack accordingly.” _  
_ “Then what, we just head into every single one with a picture of our guy and ask if they’ve seen him or sold that gun recently?” __  
“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas,” you muttered. With a sly wink, you nudged Bucky in the ribs and made for the door.


	5. Chapter 5

The hotel stretched into the sky, carving at the clouds at its peak. It stood above the city of Paris like a monument to the city’s structure and integrity. Windows dotted each face and sparkled in the sunlight, a great revolving door with gold frame and pristine glass spun in circles as aristocrats and bureaucrats moved through its many shimmering panels, and marble steps beckoned them closer, at the top of which a gentleman in a green coat and cap awaited your arrival.

“Well, doesn’t this look like a dump,” Bucky chuckled as he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but stare up at the soaring roof of the building.   
“SHIELD is paying, and I’m not about to spend my first time in Paris in a motel. Plus, the mass of people will give us some cover.” You had packed your things into a sleek black suitcase but despite how smart you thought it had looked, you still felt underdressed in comparison to the woman in a (hopefully fake) fur coat on the other side of the revolving doors.

After you checked in and admired the grand reception, you located your room on the almost-top floor. Bucky threw his bag at the foot of the bed and leapt onto the mattress. You weren’t far behind him and entered the room just in time to hear him sigh happily into the soft bedding. You rolled your eyes and put your suitcase by your own bed.

Unpacking didn’t take long – you packed lightly – and Bucky seemingly had no intention of moving from where he lay sprawled on the bed. Wasting no time, you pulled out your phone and examined the list of gun shops on your phone. Bucky apparently heard the silence. He rolled over and sat up, asking what you were doing as he did so.   
“You can sleep if you want, but four of our gun shops are within a twenty-minute taxi ride. I’m checking them off the list today before anything else.”

“If it gets me back to this bed faster, I’ll help. That flight killed me.”  
“Fine. You take these two and I’ll take these ones.” Bucky accepted a hastily scribbled note from you, and frowned. The French names would’ve been hard enough to read without your handwriting.   
“ _Great_. Rendezvous in 2 hours then?”

* * *

 

2 hours came and went. Both of you returned to the hotel without any success. Bucky was flat on the mattress when you came back.   
“When did you get back?” You asked, stretching and placing yourself in front of the desk at the other end of the room.   
“Not long ago.” Came his muffled reply. He really liked that bed. “Any joy?”   
“None.”

The hotel room was dimly lit as the day had begun to fade away. Two double beds were next to each other, Bucky’s closest to another door which led to an en suite. Where the beds ended, there was a good two-feet space before the other wall of the room, attached to which was an oak desk. On its counter was a globe-like lamp which lit up the Van Gogh replica that was framed above your head. Adjacent was a large wardrobe with shelving attached that housed a small television and tea-making facilities.

Bucky rolled over and began unlacing his shoes.   
“If we keep this standard up, he’s bound to get tipped off that we’re looking for him,” he pointed out. You grunted and ran a hand through your hair.   
“We’d better start acting more tactically then.”

You copied the list from your phone to paper and began to sort through them.  It would take a bit of planning, if you could find factors linking the various shops to the crime or the criminal, you might be able to narrow down your search.   
“You do that, I’m going for a nap.”

The picture frame on the wall above you reflected the orange glow of lamp light and it gifted you the image of Bucky’s darkened frame pulling his shirt over his head. You averted your eyes for his dignity and chewed your pencil as you began planning. Bucky clambered into his bed and pulled the covers up. His eyes didn’t need encouragement to close.

When he woke up later, the world was much darker and you were the only thing he could see, illuminated in amber. It seemed that you hadn’t moved.   
“What time is it?” He asked groggily.   
“Oh, I, uh… I don’t know.” You’d admit that his voice had startled you, so deep in concentration were you.

“Okay, you need to stop. I don’t know what you’re doing but it stops now.”   
“And do what? Waste time that I could be putting into the mission?”   
“Eat. Sleep. Listen to the radio. Whatever you have to do to let off a little steam. You’re stressing me out.”

You couldn’t help but smirk a little at his humour. As Bucky stood and dressed himself, you stretched. Unfortunately, he was right. Having spent so long hunched over the desk, your muscles was screaming for relief.   
“Alright. I’m going for a walk then. I’ll pick up some food on the way back.”  
“If you’re getting food then I’m coming with you,” he chuckled. “Besides, Paris at night might be dangerous and it’d be irresponsible of me to let a pretty woman walk alone.”  
“A pretty woman with a holstered gun in her bra and S.H.I.E.L.D. training qualifications.”  
“Touché. You can protect me then.”

* * *

 

Paris at night was not quite as picturesque as you’d imagined. The films made painted it as full moons and warmly lit streets. In reality, it was cold, with European puddle-ridden weather, and not a star in sight. All of this was accompanied by the sound of Bucky rustling his way through a newspaper-wrapped portion of fish and chips.

Despite that, it was oddly… peaceful.

Having his finished his current mouthful, Bucky looked up at the skyline.   
“Penny for your thoughts,” you sighed, wondering if this walk had been at all worth it.   
“It looks… different,” he mused quietly.

“You’ve been to Paris?” You asked, tilting your head. Whilst he was distracted with the sky, you stole a chip from under his nose.   
“Yeah, twice actually. The first was just after 1941 – although it was under Nazi occupation then – and the second time…” Bucky’s face fell.

“Hey,” you said sternly, stepping in front of him and halting him. “Don’t go there. You’re not obligated to tell me anything you’re not comfortable sharing.”  
“R-right,” he nods, clearing his throat. You fell back into step with him and let silence fall again as Bucky chewed at his food nervously.

Once he’d seemingly relaxed again, you tried posing another question.   
“Do… you have anything you _do_ want to share? My dad teaching history made me a bit of a nerd for it.”

Bucky smirked.   
“You ever been to Coney Island?” He asked. You shook your head and he let his head fall back with nostalgia. You could practically see the pictures he was watching on the back of his eyelids. You could hear the crowds in his smile. “I used to love that place. Me and Steve went together once and I threw up on the Cyclone.”

His eyes snapped open again when he heard you laugh.   
“Sorry, that might’ve been too much information.”  
“Not at all,” you smiled. “Was it the height or-”  
“No, just this one drop made my stomach turn circles.”

You kept walking for a bit longer as Bucky once again tucked into his meal. Barely a second after he’d polished it off, you grabbed his hand and took off, pulling him after you.   
“(Y/n), what are you-”  
“Come on!”

You dragged him through the streets and let the lights blur behind you. It was only a 5 minute jog to your destination and you fished in your pocket for change as you did so.

The view took his breath away. Paris in lights. Networks of brilliant white stretched out as far as his eye could see, ornamented with starlight streetlamps. The Eiffel Tower waved hello in the distance. Cars also cast shimmering luminescence upon the road, painting light across the inky canvas. Magnificent.

“It’s…” Bucky couldn’t speak for the sight in front of him. You folded your arms, rather impressed with yourself. You’d read about the Roue de Paris when you’d been organising the list of targets earlier that day as one of the gun shops was around the corner. At the mention of Coney Island, it had occurred to you that a way to both lift Bucky’s spirits and remind him of good times gone by would be to let the ferris wheel slowly show him the city.

“It’s not Coney Island, but…”  
“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

You smiled.  A real genuine smile. Times like these weren’t something you had expected of your position but you weren’t unhappy they’d come about. Especially with such good company…

“Your father raised a good woman,” Bucky said.

Your stomach twisted and you suddenly felt your knees getting weak. _Your father._ Shaking your head, you stumbled back and watched the sight around you get fuzzy. Bucky reacted immediately. He caught you as you stumbled, and begged for you to tell him what was happening.   
“I’m… I’m fine.”

Bucky wondered if he’d said something but you weakly waved it off.   
“I’m fine.”  
“No, you’re not. Is it the jetlag? You haven’t slept since we got here.”  
“Yes, jetlag. That must be it.”   
“Alright.”

Placing his arm under your legs, he lifted you up and held you in his arms until the car reached the bottom. You’d long been asleep by the time he carried you back to the hotel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All italics are French. I've made sure that nothing essential is in there as obviously the primary language for this fic is English. If you speak French and notice mistakes with what I've written (I don't speak a word of it, unfortunately), please don't hesitate to correct me. The more of this is accurate, the better I feel. <3

“How much further?” Bucky asked. You looked at the map on your phone.   
“Should be just…” You looked up at the sign on the door. “Here.”

Bucky looked at you and you him. After a subtle nod, you pushed the door open and a bell rang as you did so. The shop was dusty and old. Grey walls, shelves, and windows. The only colour was the polished birch flooring that echoed your footsteps as you stepped inside. Guns were displayed on hooks on the wall and in cabinets around the room – including that which he was leaning on which also held a shoddy looking till.

The owner was a stout, balding man with speckled brown hair on his chin and scalp. He looked up at you from underneath sharp eyebrows. He clearly wasn’t expecting.   
“ _Mais poutin… Puis-je vous aider_?” He asked after, with a sarcastic tone and infuriating smirk.   
“ _Anglais, s’il vous plait_ ,” you muttered. He seemed surprised that you knew any French at all.   
“ _Oui, oui,_ of course,” he said. “Forgive me, but you’re not my typical customer.”

“Damned right,” you snorted, “but we’re also not in the market for weaponry. You’d better hope that you know your regular customer as well as you say.” You nodded at Bucky and he pulled a folded photo out of his breast pocket.   
“Do you know this man?” He asked, placing the picture on the counter.   
“I can’t say I do, no. Can I ask why you’re looking for him?”   
“No,” you snapped. “You can’t. Are you _sure_ you’ve never seen him before?”   
“I’d remember him if for no other reason than the earring he’s got in his ear. Makes him look like a-”

“Like a what?” You growled, placing a hand on the glass counter. The portly man let his words die, withdrawing any potentially offensive words he might’ve uttered.   
“Nothing, madam. I apologise, but I have never seen this man before in my life.”  
“Really?” Bucky said, folding his arms and nodding to a dark green carbine behind the balding man’s head. “Because that looks like the gun you definitely wouldn’t have sold him then.”

The shop owner didn’t even need to examine the gun to know he’d been busted. You were happier than you’d admit to see him bow his head and sigh before standing up straight with his arms folded.   
“You understand that I’d be jeopardising the confidentiality agreement that I have with my customers.”   
“I am sure we can make it worth your while,” Bucky said slyly. You turned to look at him but hid your concern. He winked at you.

“Exactly how do you intend to make it worth my while?”   
“How about we let you continue your business as usual and don’t have you arrested for obstructing a federal investigation?”

That got him talking.   
“I… I don’t know where you’ll find them, before you ask. They are a group for hire as far as I can tell but I ask no questions of them. In return for my, uh… discretion, they pay me extra for my supplies. Even if I knew anything, I would not be well inclined to share it. These gentlemen paid for my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah.”

You left your card with the shop owner and insisted that if his daughter wanted her father to remain out of jail, that he would contact you the next time the man in question was in the building. He promptly agreed.

You didn’t have to wait long for the call. You’d visited the shop on the Monday and by Friday your mobile was ringing – and a good thing too. Bucky was going stir-crazy.

You were able to reach the shop just in time to see your prime suspect and a few of his friends leaving the premises. You and Bucky jogged across the street and began your chase.

“Take my arm,” Bucky hissed. You stepped back a little, looking him up and down. “Take it. If we get caught, this is all over, so for the next few minutes you and I are Mr and Mrs Budinger: happily married couple, out for a nice walk.”

Reluctantly, you slid your left arm into that which he’d extended to you. As soon as you’d done so, he pulled you closer and placed his remaining free hand over the top of yours. The man could play a part!

You followed the trio for some time, stopping to window-shop from time to time to maintain the façade. Eventually, the group turned off into an alleyway and you pulled your arm from Bucky’s.   
“This is it,” you said and he nodded.   
“I’ll take the roof and find another way in. You tail ‘em.”

You both entered the alleyway and watched as the men in question opened a side door to an old video shop and walked in, all whilst laughing boisterously. You pulled the gun from under your shirt and made rapidly for the entrance before the door could close. Your foot stopped it shutting just in time. You watched as Bucky leapt into the air, grabbing the bottom of a fire escape ladder and pulling himself up with precise strength. Your mind flashed back to the image of his silhouette removing his shirt in the reflection of the picture frame and the muscles you had seen lamplight bouncing off of… Shaking your head, you moved indoors.

The sound of the mercenaries led you up several flights of rickety stairs. By the time they turned off, you judged that you would be on the second to highest floor, in the perfect position for Bucky to enter after and back you up.

With your back pressed against the wall, you peered around the corner and spotted your guys. An eerie aqua light lit up the walls of the room but aside from that, it was murky. Smoke teetered near the ceiling and created a thin fog within the room that concealed your view. Thankfully, it seemed almost everyone in the room was smoking. You waited patiently for an opportunity and in the meantime counted six orange glows as each of the mercs’ inky shadows took a drag from their cigarette. They were sat around an old table playing a card game.

Sliding around the edge of the wall, you stepped into the room, concealed only by your distance from them and the small blurry curtain of cigarette smoke. How many cigarettes were these guys going through? It took all of your strength not to cough or splutter as you padded quietly closer. Your eyes were beginning to water.

One of the gentlemen had an elegantly dressed woman on his lap, and her head turned all of a sudden. A pair of vintage glasses sat atop her nose and you could see yourself in them, quickening your pulse substantially. You froze, and watched her stare past you, wondering if it had simply been a trick of the light or not. After an agonising few seconds, she returned her focus to the card game (after giving her gentleman friend a quick nibble on the shell of his ear, of course).

Eventually, you were close enough to the group that you wondered how you _hadn’t_ been seen. You stepped up behind the closest man’s seat and peered at his hand. Unlucky.

“I think folding would be your best option,” you sighed, and everyone in the room jumped to their feet. Before they had a chance to arm themselves, you put your arm around Mr Unlucky’s neck and pressed the cold barrel of your gun to his temple.   
“Nobody moves or your guy goes six-feet under.”

For a moment, nothing was done – but seemingly there was no honour amongst thieves. The gun fire was loud, and you felt Mr Unlucky’s body jolt as his previous card buddies shot him themselves. You flipped the poker table and took cover behind it, but not before one of the shots pierced your shoulder. The pain was searing and you groaned, but now was not the time for weakness.

You landed 5 shots to the men around you, but the final two men had unreachable cover behind the doorway of the next room over. You ducked behind the table again as one of your assailants peered out and fired at you. You weren’t quite sure where the woman had disappeared to, but she seemed skittish so perhaps she’d fled.

At the sound of another shot, you hit the deck, only to realise at the sound of a slumping body, that it was not he who had fired. You peered over the table and saw Bucky’s weapon smoking.   
“What took you so long?” You asked.   
“Damned fire door was locked, and I didn’t know where I was going. Only figured it out when I heard shots.”

In the adrenaline of the moment, you’d ignored your wound but it was beginning to creep up on you. Gritting your teeth, you sucked in a breath and examined the scenario.   
“So much for interrogation,” you sighed.   
“Let’s have a look around – there might be clues about their jobs in here somewhere.”

Bucky elected to search the poker room, whilst you searched the room from which he had travelled to reach you. There didn’t appear to be much searching necessary. The only objects in the room were the upturned (and now holey) table, a drinks cabinet, and several chairs. Nonetheless, he snooped around a bit, electing to open the windows just for good measure.

“Hey, Barnes…” He heard you call.   
“What is it? Did you find something?”   
“Would- Would you come in here please?” He stepped over the final gunman’s body that was slumped in the doorway – and froze.

Your eyes were wide and fearful. You licked your lips but had a quivering jaw. A woman in a blue dress and stockings was stood behind you with a knife across your neck. She scrunched up her nose in an attempt to position the glasses upon them but to no avail.    
“Don’t fucking move,” she snarled at Bucky, pressing the blade a little harder. Although you made no sound, he could see you were terrified. Instinct kicked in and Bucky drew his gun.

“Don’t do it!” The woman yelled in a shrill voice. “I’ll slice her throat.”  
“And then I’ll shoot you. Nobody wins.”

The woman contemplated this. She released her hold on you a little and you gulped. Hard. There was no training for this sort of situation.   
“Tell us who hired you.”   
“Lots of people hire my boys,” the woman sneered. “You’ll have to be more specific.”  
“A ship in the English Channel was robbed. One of your boys left his finger prints on a bullet found there.”

Leaning over shoulder, she spat at Bucky’s feet.   
“ _Mensonges_!”  
“Explain how we found you if it’s not true.” The woman mulled this over and you felt her grip loosening further.   
“It was probably that idiot Amaretto,” she growled to herself. “ _L'imbécile_ always had an itchy trigger finger.”

“Who hired you?” Bucky asked again, this time removing the safety from his gun and lifting it higher to make his statement. He took a steady breath and narrowed his eyes…   
“Why should I tell you American scum?”   
“Look around,” he said, never letting his focus waver from his target. “Your boys are dead. Your business is gone. There’s no reason not to tell us.”

The woman paused. She adjusted her posture and began to speak with a low, composed tone.   
“It… was a woman. Her name was Lavender Downfall. She wouldn’t tell us anything other than where to intercept the ship, what to look for and where to leave it. She left half a million euros in our account and promised us the same when the job was done. This was our last night here, our last job. We’d bought a townhouse and were moving. Why do you think this place is so empty?”

The woman became more and more enraged as she realised what this job had cost her. In the final moments of her speech, he saw her hand twitch. Bucky didn’t hesitate.

He took the shot.

Crimson burst from the woman’s forehead and she crumpled to the floor. You gasped and dove away from her falling body, clutching your neck. The minute she was gone, Bucky jumped towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.   
“Are you alright?” He asked, gazing into your eyes.

“You took the shot…” You whispered. Bucky looked at the body on the floor and bit his lip.   
“Yeah. But she was going to kill you if I didn’t, and I’m the world’s oldest sniper.”

Before you could ask any more questions, a stab of pain erupted from your shoulder and you groaned. Noticing you lean towards the source of your pain, Bucky spotted the bleeding hole in your shoulder and looked closer. He sighed.   
“That looks bad.”  
“I’m fine, really.”  
“Shut up. Let’s get back to the hotel. I’ll patch you up.”

You could only put up so much of a fight before the pain of your wound clamped your mouth closed.


	7. Chapter 7

The trip back to the hotel was horribly slow but thankfully your wound wasn’t dire. As soon as you were in your room, Bucky examined you and was pleased to report that the bullet hadn’t done much damage. Rather it had gotten wedged in the layers of clothing and simply pierced the outer layers of flesh. Your leather jacket, jumper, and shirt now had a generous hole in the shoulder. You’d removed all garments but the vest to allow Bucky access to your wound. That act alone was tough. Thankfully, although you’d lost some blood, you weren’t in a worrying condition. After he’d applied some antiseptic, he retrieved the needle and thread.

Bucky pushed the needle into the edge of the wound gently and you winced.   
“Sorry,” he whispered but you smiled briefly to reassure him. There was something playing on your mind about the incident above the video store. However, it wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to bring up whilst Bucky had a needle in your shoulder.

You let him work, watching his tongue stick out as he concentrated. You eventually decided that you couldn’t hold it in any longer.   
“What was going through your head when you walked into that room?”

Bucky seemed surprised by the question at first, but not wholly unnerved by it. His metal hand was inhumanly steady.   
“I guess at first I was… frightened.”  
“ _No_ ,” you teased. “Big guy like you?”   
“Alright, I was frightened for _you_ ,” he smiled. “I didn’t want her to hurt you.”

His words were almost comforting but it didn’t add up.   
“See, you say that but… you interrogated her.”  
“Yes, I… did.”  
“You interrogated her even though she was threatening my life.”

“We’d killed every other person in the establishment, (y/n). Anyone who might’ve been able to tell us anything was pushing up the daisies. If nothing had turned up in our search afterwards, we’d have dried up our only lead.”  
“Nonetheless, Bucky, she had a knife to my throat. Was my life really worth that information? You endangered my safety. You put the mission before a person’s life. My life.”

Bucky started, though thankfully it only tugged a little at the thread in your arm.   
“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he murmured.   
“Yeah,” you snapped. “I noticed.”

Bucky cut the thread and you stood up, rolling your shoulder.   
“What did you want me to do?” He said, following you across the room. His voice was loud and exasperated. “Let her get away? Or maybe you’d have preferred me to shoot her first and _then_ interrogate her?”

You growled, and the clenching of your fists put strain on your wound but you let it fuel you instead.   
“That’s another thing. You took the shot. I was practically on top of her and you still took the shot.”  
“Because she was going to kill you! Am I supposed to apologise for saving your life now too?” You huffed and turned around, showing him how you felt with the presentation of your back.   
“How do I know she was about to kill me? _You_ could’ve killed me! If you’d missed, you could’ve hit me or just pissed her off enough to seal my fate.”

Bucky wanted to scream. He wanted to punch or throw something. He turned a few circles and let his anger stew before saying anything he might regret.   
“Insult me all you want,” he snapped. “But don’t insult my abilities. I am a trained sniper. I don’t miss. If I took the shot, it’s because I knew I could hit the target.”

You made no verbal response, simply keeping your arms folded. Bucky sighed, standing equally defensively, and glared at your back. Up until now, he’d thought that you were getting along. Perhaps he really didn’t know you as well as he’d thought…  
“I’m sorry, (y/n),” he said, “but I had to make a decision.”  
“I get it. I just don’t get why you chose the mission over my life.”   
“You’re an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You would’ve done the same thing,” Bucky protested, but as he spoke you turned to face him swiftly.   
“Would I, Barnes? Would I have done that? How do you know?”

Bucky’s words faltered for a minute.   
“Don’t pretend for a minute that you know anything about me.” You yelled, fire burning in your eyes. “You have no fucking idea who I am or what I’d do.”

And just like that, you’d picked up your jacket, pulled it on (with difficulty) and slammed the door on your way out of the room. Bucky was left in the dust with no words or will to justify himself.

* * *

 

Your feet splashed through a number of puddles as you stormed out of the hotel and down the street on your left. With your head down and your temperament fierce, you had made good distance in very little time. When you eventually lifted your head up, the city had changed.

Shadows bled onto the street and swirled menacingly, making monsters out of lampposts and demons out of dustbins. Perhaps it was just the cold wind blowing up your back, but something felt wrong.

This place was eerie. Yet your own stubbornness prevented you from going back to the hotel yet. You couldn’t believe him… How could he do that you? Was it wrong of you to think that he’d been completely reckless and stupid?

You sighed. Perhaps you were being too sensitive. After all, he hadn’t missed the shot and he’d managed to get the name of your next lead. Lavender Downfall.

Just as you were thinking of turning around, a man appeared on the path in front of you. He had a dragon tattoo that ran down the left side of his face, a bristling ginger beard, and an untamed mop of hair on his head. You wouldn’t have thought anything of his appearance had it not been for the shady area you were now walking deeper into. The smile this guy gave you spoke trouble.

“ _Bonjour, belle femme_ ,” he sneered, and your throat tightened. The way his eyes looked you over was not attention you would ever invite. “ _Ne soyez pas grossier. Restez et parlez pendant un moment._ ” You didn’t know what he was saying but the glint in his eye didn’t do much to reassure you. If nothing else, you could be sure he wasn’t offering to pay for your cab out of there.

Turning right around, you hit the chest of another gentleman, whose face you didn’t see as he placed a thick hand on your shoulder and forced you into a nearby alley. The tattooed man looked around for any witnesses before following his accomplice.

Knowing that your gun was back in the hotel room, you grabbed your manhandling brute’s wrist and wrenched it off of your shoulder. He grunted as you used the leverage to push him away, leaning back and planting your foot at the bottom of his back. He stumbled forward before turning, but then your other attacker had intervened. He grabbed your injured shoulder and unknowingly sunk his nails into the wound. You clenched your teeth and moaned, but the hesitation was all they needed.

With one of their hands on your shoulder, and another around your throat, they pushed you up against the nearest wall. The brickwork knocked the wind out of you, not that you had much to release. The hand on your throat was crushing your windpipe.

You got a blurry look at the second attacker. A stout man with greasy blond hair and a wiry, lean frame. He kept eye contact with you as he slid a hand inside your pocket, feeling around and pulling out its contents for himself. The other attacker had… other ideas. He pulled your hair aside and pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your stomach was wrenching. He moved his mouth down your neck to your shoulder and you knew you were done for as your sight began to darken.

It was all over so suddenly.

Bucky pulled at the collars of both men’s shirts and they flew to the other side of the alleyway in an instant, grunting as they hit the wall. He let you cough and splutter, as you sunk to the floor, instead storming towards you attackers with the intention of finishing them off for good.

His metal hand cut upwards and cracked into the jaw of the ginger, bearded man. His head smacked into the brick wall. His body fell sideways and blood leaked from his mouth. Meanwhile, Bucky had already turned to the blond man, lifting him off of his feet entirely, planting him against the wall, and wrapping his silver fingers around his neck. A neck for a neck, he thought darkly as the man clawed at his hand.

You looked up at your partner’s looming figure as he squeezed the breath out of your attacker. Eventually once his body had gone soft, Bucky dropped him. His shoulders were hunched and he was breathing heavily. He looked like something else… Someone else… This must’ve been how he looked when he was with HYDRA.

Carefully, you began to pull yourself to your feet. At the sound of scuffling feet, Bucky turned and his face warmed. He hurried to your side and placed his arms under yours. Immediately after, he pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and rubbing circles gently into your back.

You hadn’t quite realised that you’d needed the support until you’d been given it. You cried softly. Quietly. Because you just couldn’t stop.   
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You sniffled a little and let yourself find comfort in the soft material of his jacket.   
“I hope… I hope you don’t mind me intervening,” he said. “I followed you a while after you left the hotel and saw them snatch you. At first it seemed like you could handle it, but then…”  
“Thank you,” you stammered. “Thank you.”

Bucky kept his arm around you as he led you from the heart beat. When you heard dust moving, you looked over your shoulder and saw the man with the (now bloody) dragon tattoo stirring. You left Bucky’s side, broke his nose with your foot, and returned to his embrace. Your hands didn’t stop clutching his shirt until you were back in the hotel.

* * *

 

“I’ll be honest,” Bucky said, as he dabbed your bleeding shoulder with antiseptic wipes, “I didn’t think I’d be patching up the same wound twice in one day.” You smiled and bit your lip.   
“Thank you again,” you said quietly and he smiled.

Not much else was said for some time, until you grunted at the needle again. In one grab, the brute had opened brand new stitches. You cursed his existence and prayed that you’d broken his cheekbone with your boot too.

“I… I think I owe you an apology,” you hesitantly admitted.   
“No, you don’t. I do.”  
“Agree to disagree?” You chuckled, feeling tears welling at the memory. What a day!

Letting out a shaky sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, letting the desire to cry dissipate before you continued.   
“You did what I wouldn’t have had the bravery to do. I would be too afraid to follow my gut.”  
“I bet you were afraid then too…” He murmured.   
“But, I guess, if I could’ve guaranteed the shot, I would’ve taken it too. You were right. We needed the information.”  
“Nonetheless, I wasn’t to assume that about you,” Bucky pointed out, leaning closer to check your wound as he finished up stitching. “I guess we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”

At such a proximity, Bucky felt your juddering breath on his cheek and it peppered them with pink.   
“Bucky,” you said softly. His eyes turned up and he saw your soft gaze. Your faces were closer than perhaps he’d ever been to anyone in a long time. “I’d… like to get to know you,” you admitted, “if you’ll let me.”

“I’d-” Bucky gulped and his eyes flickered down for a minute, “-I’d like to get to know you too.”

You smiled weakly and he reciprocated, letting himself get distracted for only a moment, before returning to his first-aid administration. Neither of you spoke until he was finished.


	8. Chapter 8

The flight back to New York was peaceful and calm, a welcome break after your time in Paris. Bucky was asleep for most of it, and you continually had to push his head off of your shoulder.

Lavender Downfall. That was the name ringing continuously in your head. A quick internet search had given you the answers that you needed – she was a big-time entrepreneur in Manhattan, who’d made her fortune in personal shopping for huge celebrities. It baffled you that somebody made a millionaire out of shopping for other people.

Despite her earnings, she had a modest home in Manhattan where she met most of her clients. It might make someone wonder where the rest of her money was going – luckily, you now had a pretty good idea. On the flight back home, you thought about how best to approach the situation.

After the plane landed, you and Bucky said your goodbyes and headed back home to sleep off the jetlag. You reconvened at the office the day after, having slept off the time difference. Bucky entered the room to see you working furiously at your laptop. It seemed that a holiday in Paris had not changed your punctuality.

He didn’t get a chance to sit down before you told him that you were going somewhere.   
“Where are we going?”   
“Well, I sent an email to Miss Downfall’s representatives posing as a potential new client. He gave me her address.”

“It was that easy?” He said, walking around your desk and leaning over you to look at your laptop screen.   
“It was, but I’m not stupid. There’ll be hellish security there.”  
“So what’s the plan then?”  
“Pack your things,” you said, standing and putting your laptop in a briefcase. “We’re going on a stake-out.”

* * *

 

The door at first didn’t want to open. It was only after you gave the keys a little jiggle that it swung open. Switching on the lights, you dropped your briefcase on the nearest sofa and kicked off your shoes. Bucky followed suit, pulling his bag of clothing inside and tossing them onto the floor.

The apartment was spacious and far too tidy for him to feel comfortable. On the left-hand side of the room was a modern, open-plan kitchen with glistening ebony countertops and white cupboards. A coffee machine was calling to him from the island breakfast bar. The farthest wall was indented, on account of the bathroom that was in the room behind. On the opposite side of the room was a collection of crimson futons (and matching armchair) centred around a television set and varnished pine coffee table. In the centre of the far wall, next to the entrance of the bathroom, was a doorway that presumably led to a bedroom.

“What is this place?” Bucky asked, picking up one of the remotes from the coffee table and pointing it haphazardly at the screen and frowning when the ‘on’ button did nothing. You rolled your eyes, took the DVD player remote from his hand, and replaced it with the correct one. The TV burst into colour.   
“Bucky, this is my home.”

It occurred to him only then that you’d not packed any clothing for the stake-out unlike him.    
“This is where it’s happening?”   
“Turns out she lives across the street.”

You pointed to the window adjacent to the television and he peered out. Immediately, he spied the pastel blue apartment building over the road that had been pictured on Downfall’s website. It was almost too easy…  
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled. You stretched and in the process spied the large bag of belongings that Bucky had brought with him. You smiled bashfully and picked it up, making for the doorway at the end of the room. He followed you quickly.

Dumping the bag on the bed, Bucky examined your bedroom. Much like the rest of the flat, it was pristine. Crisp white sheets were on the bed, a painting by someone he didn’t know was on the wall, and a small-ish wardrobe was tucked in the corner. He might as well have been in Paris again. The headboard was against the wall closest to them, allowing the foot of the bed to point towards a huge bay-window which gave the most glorious view of the street below.

“This is the only bedroom,” you explained, dumping his surprisingly heavy duffle bag onto the mattress and watching it bounce. “So, I’ll take the couch.” Bucky had become so engrossed with the view of the sun from the bedroom window that he didn’t register what you said at first. By the time he did, you’d left the room and put the kettle on.

“Hold on, that’s stupid,” he said as he entered the kitchen, lifting himself up to sit on a counter. You stopped frisking the cupboards for coffee mugs and looked over your shoulder at him. “It’s your place. I’ll sleep on the couch.” With a sigh, you pulled out two mugs, and placed them on the counter, just in time for the kettle to boil.   
“Well, this could go on for hours,” you smiled bashfully.

Bucky held up his hands. The look in his eyes told you that he had a solution. Oh boy, you thought. This is gonna be good.   
“With all due respect – I’m sure it’s a very comfortable cough – but I’m thinking that if either one of us hasn’t slept well then we’ll be a potential risk to the mission.”

You turned and leant back with your arms folded.   
“So you’re saying we should…”  
“We’re both adults. It’s completely possible.”  
“I’m aware of _that_ , Barnes. I just…” You turned around and let your head drop so that he wouldn’t see you blush. “Alright. Fine. But you’re sleeping on the left. That’s where the sun hits in the morning.”

He was completely right. You were adults – partners even! You should be able to sleep in the same bed without it being an issue. Bucky slipped off of the counter and to open the fridge.   
“What happens if our feet touch?” You chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.   
“Well,” he says, melodramatically sighing as he handed you the milk, “if our feet touch then we have to fuck, obviously.”

You laughed loudly and Bucky smiled warmly, noticing the glow in your eyes when you smiled. He hadn’t heard you laugh like this since you celebrated finding the bullet on the ship. That seemed so long ago now.

* * *

 

You both agreed that the stake-out could wait for a day. Bucky focused on settling in and acclimatising himself with your flat. It seemed that your tidiness was on account of having nothing better to do in the evenings than clean. Thus, when he caught you steam cleaning the counter-tops of the kitchen “for fun”, he knew that he had to do something.

A phone call to Steve game him a lengthy list of things that he’d missed out on over the past few years, and shortly after hanging up, he figured out how to order take out over the phone too. He’d have to pay on the door though. Credit cards was a lesson for another day. You turned the vacuum off just in time to hear a knock at the door. Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

You weren’t expecting anyone. That was what set you on edge. Leaving the vacuum on the floor, you crept over to the door – picking up your gun at the same time – and opened it a crack. A teenage boy in a baseball cap and a polo shirt beamed at you.   
“Hi ma’am. I’ve got your food here.”  
“Food?” You asked. This was dubious. “I didn’t order any-”

A pair of hands on your shoulders moved you back from the door and Bucky pulled it open.   
“Hi there. Yes, there you go, keep the change. Bye now.”

When he turned around with the bag of steaming food in his hand, your expression was priceless.   
“My treat,” he explained, making for the sofa before you could say anything else. “Put that noisy machine away. We’re watching a film and eating some food.”   
“I could’ve cooked,” you mumbled grumpily as you packed away the vacuum.   
“You’d have reheated whatever leftover rubbish is in your fridge and sat in silence. That’s not how things are going tonight.”

You wouldn’t admit it but the concept was exciting. When you tried to sit down to eat, Bucky forced you to your feet.   
“You can’t relax in your work uniform, go change,” he had said. You came out in jeans and a collared shirt but he still wasn’t happy.   
“You really don’t know what ‘lazy’ means, do you?” He said, pulling you into the bedroom. It resulted in him throwing a pair of his own sweatpants at you before discovering your old university sweatshirt and forcing it over your head.

“These pants are too big,” you said. He shrugged.   
“Well I just can’t believe you don’t own a pair. At least those will be loose and not uptight like the rest of your clothing. Now go sit.”

After some time in front of the TV, you were able to relax. You weren’t one to have much company, so every time Bucky laughed (with a mouthful of food) at the television, it startled you. However, you quickly adjusted and even found yourself laughing too. Apparently, portion control wasn’t something Bucky had heard of so it took the length of two films to get through even half of the food.   
“This is stuff I can put in the fridge,” you said as the credits rolled. “So don’t feel obliged to eat it all.”   
“It’s also food that I can eat all day and night, so don’t feel obliged to stop me,” he said with a wink.

You hummed amusedly and pushed your Chinese food around its container with your chopsticks.   
“I haven’t laughed that much in a long time,” you admitted. Bucky looks up from his own food.   
“It was a really good film,” he smiled, but that wasn’t what you had meant. You’d missed having company. You missed your dad.

“Well, I think I’m going to turn in,” you sighed, leaning forward and placing the pot of Chinese food onto the table next to the rest of it.   
“I’ll stay up for a bit if that’s alright,” he said with a tired smile. “I’m not sleepy yet.”  
“That’s fine. I’ll just clear-” Bucky glared at you when you made to tidy up the empty pots and boxes. “Never mind, I’ll do it in the morning.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, lifting some more food into his mouth. He’d elected to use a fork over chopsticks. The man could sew stitches but couldn’t use oriental cutlery.

You held the waistband of your adopted sweats as you made for the bedroom door. Bucky watched you go, averting his eyes suddenly when you stopped and looked at him over your shoulder. You let out a small smile.   
“Goodnight, then.” He turned to you with soft eyes.  
“Goodnight.”


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky slept well that night. Too well. A combination of a full stomach and a comfortable bed meant that he didn’t wake up until just gone 11. Of course, you were already up. It wouldn’t have surprised him if you had been up since 7 o’clock, even if it was only to clear away the mess from last night.

Sure enough as he shuffled into the main room, you were in the kitchen making a drink.   
“Look who finally woke up,” you smirked, watching him run a hand through his messy hair and yawn.   
“I’m surprised you knew that I was in the room. You were basically out cold when I came to bed.”

This talk was verging on too domestic for your liking. After all, you were only partners professionally. You turned away to grab another glass from a high shelf and pour Bucky some water.   
“I’m a good sleeper,” you explained, hoping that it was blunt enough to kill the conversation.

Bucky watched you stretch up to reach a glass. He tilted his head and smirked as he looked you up and down.   
“Are those my sweats still?”

You faltered and the glass would’ve toppled onto your head had you not corrected yourself.   
“Sorry, I… They’re comfortable,” you said, feeling your face get hot. Bucky bit his lip and smiled.   
“I told you so.” Why did he make you this way? You weren’t normally this skittish.

“I’m not used to having company this early in the morning,” you chuckled, pushing a loose strange of hair out of your face and letting the faucet fill the glass. Bucky lowers himself onto a stool of the breakfast bar.   
“Well, get used to it. We don’t know how long this part of the mission is going to take.” You handed him the glass and he smiled at you as he took a sip.

“So,” he said, placing his drink on the counter, “how long _have_ you lived alone?” You planted yourself across from him and shook your head.   
“No. I’m not… We don’t get to do that. I’m not telling you my life story, okay? Our relationship is purely professional.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.   
“I just slept in your bed. I’m drinking your water. In about 15 minutes, I’m going to use your shower. That surpasses professional as far as I’m concerned. You can at least tell me how long you’ve lived here.”   
“A few years. Happy?” Bucky shrugged and picked up his glass for another sip.   
“We’ll see.”

After reminding you that you’d wanted to get to know him and vice-versa, you were convinced to share a little more about yourself than you’d normally be inclined. Once he was satisfied and his glass was empty, he decided to shower. In the meantime, you began your normal cleaning routine. You washed up, you vacuumed (again), and then you took the bins out. They were fuller than normal on account of your feast the night before.

You closed the front door with your foot, and at the sound, Bucky poked his head out of the bathroom door. His hair was dark and dripping onto the chest that you definitely were not looking at.   
“Towels?” He asked, and you started for a minute. You’d washed the towels when you left for Paris and hadn’t put more out. Shielding your eyes (much to Bucky’s amusement), you surpassed the bathroom and headed to the necessary closet in the bedroom.   
“Thanks doll,” he chuckled after you chucked a chocolate-coloured cloth at him. Once he’d shut the bathroom door again, you let out a sigh and chastised yourself. You decided that it was about time you brushed yourself up and headed for the bedroom to change.

Bucky towelled off his hair as he entered the main room. You were sat at the windowsill by the television with a pair of binoculars. It was a sunny day and he couldn’t help but like the way you looked in the sunshine. Perhaps it wasn’t what he should be thinking of his partner, but he didn’t care. You were wearing a white vest and an unbuttoned cotton blue shirt over the top. Combined with the denim shorts underneath, you looked completely at ease. He could picture you sat the same way in a beach house, relaxing in the conservatory whilst you watched sea birds through your binoculars. He would bring you a mug of coffee and –

“What are you looking at?” You asked him, interrupting the fantasy. He shook his head and took a deep breath.   
“Nothing. Just wondering what the plan is.”

You held out the binoculars and pointed out of the window. He took them and leaned over you, spotting what you were looking at. A tall woman with long, golden curls was strutting down the street. At the end of a green leash was a small dog – tatty white thing with a long pink tongue – that trotted along by her feet. She had a full face of make-up and was wearing a glamorous summer dress and cardigan.   
“Sticks out a bit, don’t she?” remarked Bucky.   
“That’ll hopefully make our job a bit easier. Let’s watch her for a bit and see if we can’t spy anyone shady meeting with her. It would appear most of her business is handled at home.”

You continued to observe Downfall for some time. A few days passed, and then it had been a week. You were incredibly aware that time was likely running out. The deal might have already happened. Upon mentioning this to Bucky, he agreed. It was time to make a move.

* * *

 

“How is this going to go down?” Bucky asked. You purchased two hot dogs from the vendor and lingered by his stand a moment as you watched Lavender and her dog sitting by the mall’s fountain. The scruffy white dog jumped from her lap, to the bench, to her lap again, seemingly excited by the spray of water.   
“She just needs to see my face. Once that’s done, then it’ll be a case of getting close to her in good old fashioned neighbourly conduct.”  
“And how exactly are you going to do that?”

You handed your hot dog to Bucky when Lavender stood up, placing her dog on the floor. He made to speak but you were already gone, purposefully fumbling through your purse as you made a beeline for the blonde.

As you’d hoped, you walked right into the dog leash and hit the floor. The contents of your purse spilled everywhere and your hands scraped the ground, staining the stone floor with a dash of red. It was a minor injury but enough to get the job done.  

Lavender Downfall gasped in horror.   
“Oh my goodness,” she whispered, getting to her knees and helping you sit up. Her dog was quiet with alarm. The poor thing probably felt the brunt of your fall and your conscience panged with guilt for a minute. “Are you alright?”

You waved your hands dismissively and smiled weakly.   
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going at all!”  
“Don’t you worry about it, sweet pea. Let me just see if I’ve got something for those hands.”

Your scrape had been worse than you’d originally thought, little lines of blood all up your palms. Whilst Lavender looked in her own purse for something, you turned to Bucky who looked equal parts alarmed and impressed.   
“Here we are,” Downfall announced, pulling out an antiseptic wipe and a plaster.   
“Do you always have a first-aid kit at hand?” You asked as she took your hand and wiped the dirt from it. It stung but you coped.   
“This little one has gotten me into enough trouble that I’ve learnt to be prepared,” she smiled sweetly, gesturing to her dog.

“There. That’s better. Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked. You shook your head.   
“Then let’s just get you all packed up and back on your way.”

Despite her expensive-looking clothing, Lavender Downfall was more than happy to get on her hands and knees to help you collect your things. Once it was packed away, you thanked her profusely.   
“Oh, look at that,” she noted as you stood up. “You’ve got a wee bit of dirt on that cheek of yours.”

Her perfectly manicured hand swept the dust away and even cupped your cheek. She bit her lip and smiled.   
“Well, aren’t you just cute as a button?” She cooed. The blush on your cheeks was just part of the act, you told yourself.   
“I- I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on,” you chuckled, trying to change the topic. This was not a part of your plan. Her hand was still on your cheek which began to grow warmer.   
“And society would mourn the loss of such a masterpiece, I am sure.”

Your eyes grew wide as you realised what was happening.

This was definitely not part of the plan.


	10. Chapter 10

This was definitely not a part of the plan.

However, it could work… It wasn’t the angle you’d intended but it was definitely one you could work with. Lavender looked you up and down before eventually removing her hand from your cheek. Good thing too; having a beautiful woman pay you such nice attention was not going to do your pulse or your temperature any favours.

“I feel awful,” you sighed, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder. “May I buy you a drink to make up for it? That is if you don’t have any plans.”  
“Not at all!” Lavender beamed. “And how could I turn down an offer from such a beauty?”

Linking her arms with yours, she began dragging you towards the nearest coffee shop. You linked eyes with Bucky, who was now looking seriously worried, and smiled curtly at him. Though he relaxed a little, he wasn’t all that reassured and began to panic eat his hot dog.

He watched you both cross the floor and enter the nearest coffee shop, wolfing down his hot dog at the same time. Eventually, the hot dog stand owner grew irritable and moved him on, at which point he sat down on the bench by the fountain. Every so often he would look over, through the window of the coffee shop to check on you.

It didn’t look like you were outwardly in danger but he also didn’t like the thought of you not having any back up. He munched nervously on his food – even polishing off yours out of fear. He sat, freshly empty-handed, for a little while longer before deciding that he couldn’t wait around any more.

Bucky entered the coffee shop but purposefully avoided eye-contact with you, as hard as it was. He orders the first drink that he reads from the chalkboard and sits at the other end of the shop, pulling out his phone and pretending to look at it whilst watching you.

Lavender was very… smiley. She wore lipstick that turned her mouth a deep crimson, highlighting the ivory colour of her teeth as she smiled at you. No, smiled wasn’t the right word… _Beamed._ The woman appeared to glow in your very presence. Something sour stirred in his stomach at the thought. He didn’t like what he was happening between you, and convinced himself that it was because you were his partner and that your safety was his priority.

She tossed her golden curls behind her shoulder and laughed loudly at something you said. You bit your lip and looked down with red on your cheeks. Were you uncomfortable? Bucky worried. Lavender leant forward and placed her hand over years and you let out a quiet little laugh.

As the conversation continued, Bucky risked burning his mouth as he sipped on his coffee anxiously. Time ticked on but not one of the three of you noticed; Lavender was having too much of a good time, you were continuously trying to appease her, and Bucky was too edgy.

Her hand moved from being on top of yours, to hovering over it, and she drew little circles into your skin with her finger. When Lavender began to speak herself, you turned and gave Bucky a meaningful look. Whatever your intention had been, you’d achieved it. You were done. You needed an escape clause.

It didn’t take him long to think of one, and suddenly he was standing and calling out to you.   
“(Y/n)?” He called. A couple of heads in the shop turned, including yours and Lavenders. “(Y/n), is that you? It is!” Bucky stepped closer to the table and pretended all too late to notice your company. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, I was just leaving.” Lavender smiled at him too. He couldn’t help but feel that this woman had a smile for every occasion. This woman was slippery. She turned to you and took your hand again, using her other to pull out a small card and push it across the table. “I’ve so enjoyed our time together and I’m glad to have met you. Please consider my offer.”

Lavender stood up and walked around the table, planting a long, soft kiss on your cheek. Her lipstick wasn’t the only reason your cheeks were red. She stroked your hair gently and then took her leave, once again with her small white dog at her heels. The bell to the coffee shop rang as she departed and Bucky waited for the door to close before speaking.

You turned around the small card that you’d been given and let Bucky examine it.   
“I’ve got a date, it would seem,” she said lowly, running a hand through her hair. “She said that she’ll put my name on the list in the hopes that I’ll turn up.”

The card was for a large hotel in the centre of New York City. On the back, in swirly-whirly handwriting, was a date, time, and phone number, succeeded by a small heart and the letter ‘L’.   
“You don’t think…” Bucky began, and you nodded.   
“I do. Big fancy party at an expensive hotel with lots of big names attending? Whoever she’s selling to, they’re going – and now, so are we.”

* * *

 

Bucky and yourself realised very quickly that if you were going to fit in at this party, you needed to look like it. Contacting your friends in finance once more, you got the money you needed to splash out on some new attire. This was where you got to boss Bucky around a little.   
“If you think that says smart and expensive, think again. Get back in that changing room and try on what I gave you.”   
“No, you cannot wear denim to a gala dinner.”  
“I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable – if I’m wearing heels, you’re wearing a bow tie.”  
“I’m not asking if the tuxedo comes with a knife holster.”

Eventually, you came to an agreement and left the store with a large paper bag. Bucky tried to have some input on what you wore but this time you weren’t having it. Not after the demands he’d made the other evening. You eventually left the changing room and Bucky was curious to know what dress you’d chosen but you refused to let on, gripping the handles of your own bag fiercely.

“I figure we should also arrive in style if we can,” you said as you whistled for a taxi outside the mall.   
“Agreed. Though we shouldn’t look too flashy. We don’t want to seem too out there or she’ll wonder why you haven’t met her before.”  
“Alright so not a limo then,” you sighed.   
“No. But maybe a fancy car.”

Several hours later, you waited outside your apartment building for the hired car to arrive. As far as everyone else would be concerned, you’d simply splashed out to make a good impression for your date. To you and Bucky it was a SHIELD car, with Jim from accounting in the driver’s seat, wearing his Sunday best.

You let Bucky get in first and then shut the door behind you, only sitting back once you’d given Jim the address.   
“You guys got an invite there?” He chuckled as he pulled out into the main road.   
“What can we say,” Bucky smirked. “We’re very good at our job.”

You arrived too soon for your liking. Your stomach was doing a number on you. As soon as you could be sure there were as few as possible on you, you opened the car door. Photographers turned at the sight of you, wondering who you were and why you were invited. The mystery surrounding you was enough to capture their attention – and the shutters began to click.

Bucky shuffled over to the door and tugged at your coat.   
“If we go in together, she’ll think you invited me and she won’t want to talk. Go in without me. We’ll drive around the block then I’ll be right behind you.”

He shut the door and the car took off. A man in a smart jacket descended the carpeted stairs – not that you saw him until he was right beside you, the flash from the press was blinding.   
“May I take your coat ma’am?” He asked, holding out his arm. You looked over your shoulder and saw the car disappearing out of sight. Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded and shrugged your coat off.

Had the photographers not already been intrigued, they were now. You handed the doorman your coat and followed him slowly up the stairs. The dress had been on the sale rack, which was the main reason you’d chosen it, but now you were slightly starting to wish you’d not bothered. All the attention if was drawing to you was too much.

Your stomach swirled as you pictured the images they were taking. The dress was a deep emerald in colour and showed off your shoulders with thin straps. It seemed to shimmer in both the lights of the hotel, and the flashes of the photographers’ cameras. They simply refused to stop taking pictures until you were indoors.

The warmth hit you hard and made your head swim – if you hadn’t already been a little woozy from all the attention. The doorman hung up your coat and led you towards the main hall. Everything about the room spoke grandeur to you, and after giving your name and being bid entrance, you could admire it in detail. A tall, domed ceiling held paintings that must have been decades old and they probably held some sort of religious significance too but it was nothing you could discern. A crystal chandelier draped the room in gold and warmed the skins of everyone inside. Some faces you recognised – people from TV or big news anchors – others must have just been rich and famous for something you didn’t know.

Lingering by the bar, you waited for Bucky’s arrival, ordering two drinks and chewing nervously at your fingernails in the meantime. You continued to watch the door, either for Lavender or for Bucky. Thankfully, it was the latter who arrived first.

Striding to the door, you caught the doorman’s attention and bid that Bucky be let in.   
“He was just parking the car,” you said with a smile and the elderly gentleman grinned too, taking Bucky’s coat.

You looped your arm with Bucky and led him into the hall. Whereas, upon your entrance, you’d been fascinated with the architecture, Bucky’s attention lay elsewhere.   
“You look…” He hadn’t seen your dress yet. Even when you’d been waiting for the car, you’d had your coat on.   
“Thanks,” you mumbled, brushing hair out of your face.

“I mean it,” Bucky said, pulling you aside and twirling you around. “You look… like a million bucks.”

You weren’t quite sure what his intentions were by telling you that. Was he affirming the fact that Lavender was going to be impressed? Or was he trying to tell you something else? You hedged your bets with the former.   
“Lavender’s not here yet,” you said once he’d stopped spinning you and taken your hand.   
“Good,” he smiled. “That means I can have the first dance.”

The band struck up a tune as Bucky dragged you onto the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

The dancefloor was a whirlwind of circles. Dress skirts burst into colour like a thousand blooming flowers, and dancers turning their partners like winds in a desert. Bucky was no exception. He pulled you into the centre of the room and pulled you close.

“If she sees us, we’re blown,” you hissed at him but he didn’t seem to care.   
“It’s a good thing she’s not here then.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back and lifted your hand high. Bucky’s eyes never left yours as he turned around the floor with you. His smile was calm and gentle, unlike the cheekiness you usually attributed to him. His eyes glittered. His skin was warm. Yet the pulse in his fingertips was racing. How exactly did Bucky feel right now?

It occurred to you after a while that he seemed to be a natural on the floor. The way his body moved to the music, and his clear, purposeful footwork: he’d done this before. You could picture it now; James Buchanan Barnes, twirling a pretty girl around the dancefloor. And suddenly that’s what you saw.

An old jazz club, with a thin layer of cigar smoke hanging in the air. Warm lights penetrated the fog and lit you up on the dance floor. Despite the murmur of conversation that could be heard, there was nobody in sight. Just you and Bucky. He was dressed in his army uniform with his original haircut all slicked back, just like you’d seen in those black and white pictures, but his smile was all golden. He was sunshine.

“You look amazing,” he said, dipping you down. When he pulled you back up, you were back in reality – the modern day. His hair was tied back again, and he wore a tuxedo. He was eyeing you warily.   
“You okay, there?” He said, and you shook your head with a smile.   
“Yeah, I’m good.”   
“Thought I’d lost you for a minute.”  
“I was just…” You heard the vintage band playing, “…deep in thought.”

“Thinking about the plan?”  
“The plan. Yes, that’s it.”

Bucky twirled you around and the song ended, allowing him to casually escort you off of the floor. You both leaned against the bar and looked at the entrance, waiting yet again for Lavender’s appearance.   
“So this plan of yours: are you going to share it?”

You nursed your drink tentatively, before licking your lips.   
“No. I‘m not.” Bucky’s smile faltered.   
“I don’t… understand. We’re partners; we’re supposed to-”  
“Look, if this is going to work you’d better give me some distance.”  
“But what’s your plan after that? Will you at least tell me that?”

You let your head drop and frowned.   
“No.”  
“(Y/n)-”  
“I don’t just have a plan,” you snapped. “I’ve got suspicions too. Just trust me, and give me some space.”  
“Fine,” he said, leaving you alone at the bar.

Bucky was admittedly pissed. It was one thing to have a plan that needed space, but to withhold it from him? That was cold. He’d really believed that you’d gotten closer but yet again you’d pulled the rug out from under him. He lingered in the corner of the room and waited patiently, forcing himself to calm down a little. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe you had some master plan that was going to save the day. Besides, any suspicions you had couldn’t be about him, right? After everything you’d been through – everything you felt – it seemed impossible to him that you would feel anything other than… what?

What exactly did he feel for you? And did you feel the same?

As Lavender Downfall entered the room and he realised what he was going to have to witness for the next few hours, Bucky promised himself that after tonight, after this party, he was going to be honest with himself about how he felt. Maybe then he could finally allow himself to get close to you.

He watched Lavender sweep into the room, wearing an ironically purple dress that fell off of her waist like a waterfall. Her golden hair was curled and seemed to be glittering in the light of the chandelier. She took your hand and pulled you delicately from the bar, twirling you around before pressing herself against you. Bucky snorted. His moves had been _way_ better. He took your place at the bar so that he could sustain his watchful eye on you. It was important that tonight of all nights he could have your back if you needed it.

However, he didn’t just watch you. He watched several others in the room – anyone that he suspected could be the potential buyer. If the sale was going down in this building, you needed to know about it before it happened.

Bucky ordered another drink from the bar and brought it to his lips. Lavender had her hands on your hips now, holding them closer to her own. Your arms were over her shoulders, fingers tangled in her hair. Either you were very good at playing the part or you were genuinely attracted to her. Bucky considered the possibility that you were attracted to Lavender and his heart sunk. Although he’d vowed to be honest with himself _after_ tonight, every thought he had of you reminded him exactly of the emotions he was trying to ignore. Shaking his head, he looked elsewhere again.

Bucky took a sip of his drink.

Shortly after, the world became a little hazy. He thought nothing of it at first, assuring himself that it was just a light buzz from the alcohol. Then it got gradually worse. Bucky took a step forward and felt his knees buckle. He grabbed the nearest thing to him – a bar stool – and bent the back of the seat with his metal hand.

He shook and shuddered and eventually hit the floor. He could still see the blurry image of you being twirled around the dancefloor. Seemingly you hadn’t noticed. Murmurs and gasps filled the room and soon his vision was teeming only with the silhouettes of strange faces as company gathered around him.

Your name was the last thing to leave his lips in a slurred murmur as black bled into his vision.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky’s head swam. As soon as he felt that he was awake, he sat up – and instantly regretted it. His stomach churned, and he wanted to be sick. Peeling his eyes apart, he saw the bright lights of what might’ve been a hospital, but possibly could’ve been an asylum. It worried him that neither situation was alarming to him.

He felt a tender pair of hands helping him to sit up and slowly words bled through the haze.   
“-sy does it, Mr Barnes,” said a woman’s voice.   
“Where…” His tongue felt like lead but a bell-like laugh reassured him.   
“You’re safe. You’re back at SHIELD.”

SHIELD. The mission. He’d passed out. What had happened? Where were you?

“Your drink had been spiked, I’m afraid,” the nurse – or at least Bucky presumed it was a nurse (his vision was still blurry) – explained. “Luckily, Jim saw the ambulance arrive from the car and called it in. We intercepted you at the hospital, brought you back, and treated you here. You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

It all began to bleed back into his memory. He remembered that you’d last been dancing with Lavender, and desperately begged the nurse to tell him where you were, if you were okay. She leaned into his face and flashed a torch in his eye. That woke up his senses. He could suddenly see the room – a blinding white world of glass and metal – and he could see the nurse, a woman with flaming red hair and dazzling green eyes.

“Tell you what,” the redhead smiled. “I reckon in a few minutes you’ll be well enough. You still seem fit and healthy; just woozy. Give it a minute and then ask her yourself. I believe she needed to see you anyway.”  
“She… needs to see me?” He asked groggily. “Did she say that? Did she say that she needed me or did you hear that from someone else?”  
“Mr Barnes…”   
“Sorry.”

Once given the all-clear, Bucky stumbled down the corridor. He slowly adjusted to life back on his feet and his stumble turned into a run. He burst into the main room of the SHIELD HQ and saw you on the other end, talking with John Peters. You were still wearing the dress from the night before but your hair was messier and your make-up was slightly smudged. Had you been in a fight? Oh my god, what if you’d had to fight and he hadn’t been there?

Guilt pumped through his veins and he quickened his pace across the room. You could barely acknowledge his presence before he’d tackled you and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into the familiar smell of you and thanking every god he knew of that you were safe.   
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Bucky whispered to you. In return, he was greeted with silence but that opportunity allowed him to remember the promise he’d made that he’d start being honest with himself about how he felt.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands.   
“What happened to you?”

* * *

 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” Lavender said with her hands on your hips. You were hyper-aware of how much she was touching you.   
“To quote someone I know,” you swallowed your anxiety, “‘how could I turn down an offer from such a beauty?’” You blushed and Lavender laughed before turning you on the spot.

Whilst she spun you around, you caught a glimpse of a crowd gathered by the bar. It was only a fleeting image. You returned to Lavender’s face before you could wonder what had happened to Bucky.   
“Am I also to assume that you came without company tonight?” she asked, pulling herself closer to you. Every movement of her body could be felt against your own.   
“I- I did, yes. I mean, I am alone.”

Lavender’s hands slid from your hips to your lower back. She leant forward and her crimson lips lingered by your ear.   
“Good. That means you’re coming home with me.”

Hearing this part of the story caused the blood to drain from Bucky’s face. He could picture it now: you blushed and bit your lip. Lavender led you off the dancefloor and up the hotel stairs, giggling like a schoolgirl. She pulled you into her hotel room whilst toying with the straps on your dress and gentling pressing her lips to your neck.

“I didn’t know that you were… That you, uh…” He cleared his throat.   
“Not that it’s any of your business, Barnes, but I’m bisexual.”

Bucky frowned at the harshness of your words and your tone. Why were you being so… blunt? Had he done something to irritate you? Had he done something wrong? He hadn’t meant to pass out. Bucky shook his head as you continued your tale.

The morning after, you pulled the dress over your body and winced. Your muscles ached and your back was sore. This was why you hadn’t told Bucky. There were some things that needed to be done for the sake of the mission which he couldn’t… supervise.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw Lavender’s body covered in a thin sheet. Her hotel room was twice the size of your front room, and a large window stretched up the wall by the bed, covering her sleeping form in silken sunlight. Happy that she was fast asleep (you were very good at your job), you began to search the room.

An ornate desk at the end of the room held nothing. Nor did her wardrobe, or her dresser. It was only as you were beginning to panic that you noticed a small, titanium safe in the corner of the room. Bingo. It took only a moment for you to wonder what the passcode would be – or rather, where it would be kept.

You knelt next to Lavender’s tatty white dog – who was sleeping peacefully by the door – and stroked the top of his head. He was very excited to see you. Thankfully, enough quiet playtime rolled him onto his back, revealing his collar, and the four numbers etched into its tag. Sure enough, the safe had several folders worth of documents. It seemed that this wasn’t the first weapons sale Lavender Downfall had orchestrated.

You skipped through quickly, noting unnecessary documents like weapon price evaluations (courtesy of the same gun salesman you’d already interviewed, you noted bitterly), and contact details for the hired mercenary thieves. You found records of a payment to a storage company who were no doubt holding the weapons now.

You did a silent dance and thanked your lucky stars. This was it. This was what you’d been searching for this entire mission.

However, just as you were about to pull out your phone and call it in, you noticed another artefact. Something that Lavender Downfall definitely couldn’t have.

The notes from your mission.

It was all there. The lab results regarding the found bullet. The sorted list of the gun shops that you wrote up in Paris. This was impossible… How could she have these?

You stared at Bucky with a stone-faced expression.  
“It occurred to me there was a mole in SHIELD. Someone who was leaking details of our mission to the details of our mission to the people involved. It confirmed my suspicions.”  
“You… had suspicions?”   
“I didn’t think it would be that bad but… I knew it was something. Ever since Lavender invited me to the party. I don’t care what I’m wearing – there’s no way I’d be good-looking enough to get invited to something like that on a whim.”

Bucky disagreed but he kept his mouth shut. This was serious.

“It became obvious at that point that she knew who I was. That she was sleeping with me for… revenge, I guess. Or rather, she was toying with me, playing games with me like it was fun. Anyway, it backfired for her in the end. I found her dirty little secrets. As well as that, details of this mission had only been shared with a finite amount of people so that it didn’t get out that SHIELD had misplaced weapons. That gave me a list of suspects. I just needed to narrow it down.”

“And…?” Bucky asked, getting impatient. He couldn’t believe that you’d completed the mission but someone had almost jeopardised it for you – for the both of you! “What did you find?”

You looked at John Peters who gave you a meaningful look. With a sigh, you turned around to the nearest table and pulled an evidence bag off of it, passing it to him without making eye-contact. Bucky felt his mind tearing itself to shreds at the sight. The book. Red and leather bound, with a black star on the cover.   
“No…” He whispered. “That’s impossible.”  
“It was in the safe.”

You pulled a set of handcuffs from your back pocket and handed them to the nearest agent who moved behind Bucky. He was too mesmerised by the book to notice. He could hear the words being recited in his head. Drumming. Pounding. You retrieved the book from his hands so that he could be cuffed, keeping your head low, unable to look him in the eye.   
“Bucky Barnes, I’m placing you under arrest for the jeopardization of enforcing justice and for the leaking of organisational secrets.”

Bucky’s eyes moistened as he was dragged away from you.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky’s mind was fractured and fading. He could hear his own screams and shouts and yells. He tugged on the ends of his hair and threatened to pull them from his scalp with fear.

Metal fingers turned to metal plates and suddenly Bucky was once again in Siberia. He could feel the sparks and jolts of electricity coursing into his brain. And it _hurt_. His body was screaming and so was he. The machine wiped him of everything but the pain until it became nothing more than a sponge.

A man in uniform walked callously about the room, the red book with a black star open in his hands. He read from the open page, word by word.

“желание,” said he, and Bucky felt the _longing_ of his home, the way his infant hands used to reach out for his mother.

“ржaвый,” said he, and Bucky’s head was now much older and he remembered his first Christmas present: a _rusted_ tin soldier.

“Семнадцать,” said he, and now Bucky was _seventeen_ again, dancing with the girl next door. The metal panels removed themselves from the side of his head and Bucky convulsed in his seat, coming to terms with his painful freedom.

“Рассвет,” said the man with the book, and Bucky remembered watching the _daybreak_ over the top of the trenches.

“Печь,” said he, and Bucky felt the heat of a blazing fire as a bomb blew him off of his feet, a _furnace_ of death that warmed the bodies falling all around him. How he longed for home…

“Девять,” said he, and Bucky’s unit were suddenly captured. He was a scared little boy in his heart again, wide-eyed and _nine_ years old, praying that he would see his mother again.

“добросердечный,” said he with the power, walking closer to the Winter Soldier. Bucky’s mind was frayed with emotion, remembering the _benign_ smile of his best friend when he was rescued, oh so long ago…

“возвращение на родину,” said he, and Bucky grit his teeth. He could feel the heat of the room at his _homecoming_ party. A woman with a red dress was talking to Steve.

“Один,” said he, and Bucky felt himself becoming _one_ with himself again, finally whole, walking through a train with a Captain by his side.

“грузовой вагон,” came the final word, and Bucky remembered falling from the _freight car_ … right into this seat.

He looked up at the man with the power as he closed the red book with the little black star and placed it on a nearby surface.   
“Good morning, soldier,” said he.  
“Ready to comply,” said the Winter Soldier.

* * *

 

The door buzzed and pulled Bucky from his nightmare, dripping in sweat and stiff. Steve thanked the guard before stepping inside. There were a few cells lined up in a row but Bucky was the only occupant so he’d been placed in the closest. Each cell was four walls of nothing, accompanied by a small fold-out bed and a silver toilet. Bucky paced the floor with his arms folded.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d done it. He was a mole. Worse still, this would completely disrupt his chances with the Avengers, and after all that was what this whole mission had been about. Had it gone down without a hitch, he would’ve worked for a few more years in the agency before eventually being drafted. It would all have been so easy. Too easy…

Bucky was distraught. Steve said close to nothing as he let off a string of apologies, stating that he didn’t even know that he’d done it. He could see the hurt in his friend’s eyes and it destroyed him. Steve had trusted him. He’d reached out and got him an opportunity to better himself and without even knowing it, that opportunity had been ripped away from him.

Eventually, he quietened down.   
“I’m so… sorry, Steve,” he whimpered, ultimately sitting himself on the floor with crossed legs and planting his face into his hands.    
“I don’t blame you,” the blond said finally.   
“Why? Why don’t you? Think about how much worse it could’ve become if (y/n) hadn’t found that book, I could’ve-” Bucky gasped. “Oh god, (y/n).” He receded further into his cell.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.   
“How did they even get the book, Bucky?” He asked, albeit a little exasperated. “I thought it was put away in evidence. Safe. Secure.”  
“I… I don’t know,” Bucky sighed. There was probably a perfectly logical explanation but he couldn’t think of it right now. All he could think of was you. It wasn’t just his reputation he’d almost destroyed, after all.

“I need to see her, Steve,” he stated. “I need to know what she thinks of me. I need to-” Steve held up his hands with a tired smile.   
“She’s outside.”

It wasn’t long after Steve had left that you replaced him. Bucky was suddenly against the glass, baring his balms and begging for your attention.   
“I’m so sorry,” he said. You didn’t react to him. You didn’t even acknowledge his presence. It seemed that you were deep in thought. “I didn’t even know I was doing it. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to do… some of the things you did. You wouldn’t have had to sleep with that woman just for the sake of completing the mission. You have made yourself vulnerable, you’ve made sacrifices, for this mission and I’ve been pulling the rug out from under you the whole time.”

“You… blame yourself?” You asked.   
“Of _course_ I blame myself. Did you think I could blame you?”   
“Maybe. I thought you’d be mad. I gave them that book. I could’ve just, I don’t know, taken it back and pretended it never happened.”  
“No, don’t say that. You did the right thing. What kind of agent am I going to be if I can’t even trust my own mind? I’m not mad at you. I did this. I did this, and I didn’t even realise it.”

You sighed heavily, and groaned. You pulled gently at your hair and turned on the spot a few times. Bucky watched you for a while, wondering what could have you so aggrieved. Eventually you stop turning and look over your shoulder. The guard has gone for his rounds. You had a couple of minutes.

Stepping closer to the glass, you put your hand where his was.   
“You’re innocent,” you hiss. Bucky looks taken aback. “I know you are. You didn’t do this. Someone else did and I’m going to find out who.”   
“But… it had to be me. They had the book.  
“No,” you insisted, “you didn’t. How exactly did they get the book from the evidence locker?”

Bucky thought a little harder this time.   
“I… don’t know.”   
“Exactly. So you can’t have had anything to do with it. Someone who was already here passed it on. Yes, there is a mole. No, it’s not you.”

Bucky sighed and smiled sadly at you, stepping back from the glass. You looked him up and down with concern.   
“Your faith is… reassuring, I guess, but I’m a monster. I’ve killed people because of that book. This is what happens to me now.”

You rolled your eyes. He was being a tad dramatic for your taste.   
“Nonetheless, don’t tell anyone that I’m looking or you’ll screw me over. You could tell the real leak.”  
“What about Steve?”

You pondered his question and rubbed your eyes.   
“I- I don’t know. Maybe. Just… keep it down until I’m sure.”

You turned around and made for the door as the guard’s footsteps signalled his return. Bucky stopped you first, though.   
“Why would you do this? Why would you do this for me?”

You bowed your head and frowned, thinking about how best to answer.   
“I just… won’t let you go down for this. Not when I’m the one who put you in there. We’ve been through too much and you’re a good guy. I know that now.”

“You don’t think I’m-”  
“Of course not,” you said, letting a small bashful smile grace your lips. “You’re my partner.”

As the door shut behind you, Bucky let the ghost of a smile onto his face and fell back onto his bed.


	14. Chapter 14

Every day in his cell drove Bucky a little more stir-crazy. For the most part he was holding it together but now that the seed of doubt had been planted, Bucky could only think of you. His mind was being twisted and turned and spiralled out of control as he began to doubt his own guilt. You’d said the words, and you’d believed them; now he wanted to believe them too. Every second he had to wait for an update was near enough to torture. It was worsened by the fear of what would be his punishment, should they ever decide to enact it. He had no doubt in his mind that Steve would be trying to delay whatever verdict they came to.

You pored over the information on your desk. Every little detail from your case. You also wondered whether it would be worth –   
“Knock knock,” said Steve Rogers, as he poked his head around the door and entered unannounced. You attempted to gather up the documents in a hurry until you saw who you were dealing with. “Sorry, I don’t mean to barge in.”  
“It’s fine,” you said, waving your hand and making to sit on the other side of your desk. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I just figured you might want someone to talk to. You might be feeling guilty about having handed that book in…” You let your head drop and expelled a nervous and shaky laugh.   
“You have no idea.”  
“You did the right thing, (y/n), handing it in. He needs help – a type of help that he can only get with us.”

“Can’t you do anything for him? You’re Captain America for crying out loud. If anyone can get him off scot-free, it’s you.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck and frowned.   
“I’m doing everything I can but it’s not that simple. This _was_ my helping him. This was his second chance…”

You let your head fall into your hands and let out a strangled whimper.   
“And I ruined it for him.” Suddenly, Steve was on his feet with a hand on your shoulder. He rubbed small, reassuring circles into your skin and spoke softly.   
“Hey, now. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do this to him – HYDRA did,” Steve Rogers looked you in the eye. “You are not the villain.”

When he eventually took his leave and resumed the purpose of his trip – to visit Bucky – you didn’t have the strength to tell him how wrong he was.

* * *

 

The door closed abruptly behind you and Bucky’s face lit up. He trotted to the glass and smiled wide.   
“Looking dapper,” he smirked. Despite his situation, it was almost as though he’d never changed. The thought tugged at your heartstrings. “Any news? Any more information?”

“It’s… someone else, I can confirm that,” you smiled weakly, looking over your shoulder repeatedly. Bucky thought nothing of it. His eyes were full of hope. “I can’t talk about it now though. I have my initiation.”

That explained the uniform, Bucky thought. You were wearing sensible shoes with tights, a pencil skirt, and something that resembled a blue air force blazer and cap. Very smart. He fought back the desire to admire your uniformity.    
“If you’re not here to update me, what’s the occasion?” He asked. You looked over your shoulder for yet another time, before pulling off your hat and fishing out a key that was tucked into the fabric. You opened the door to Bucky’s cell and held it open.

At first he was hesitant, wondering if his release had been sanctioned or whether it was a breakout. He eventually decided that he didn’t care. He trusted you. When he’d been imprisoned, he’d done so with only the clothes on his back and so he stepped into freedom with only a pair of smart trousers, a dress-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and pair of grey socks. As a result, the air seemed a little nippier on the outside.

Once he was out of the cell, you shut the door behind you.   
“All the information is on my desk,” you explained. “Just _go_. You’ll know what to do with it after.”

You were about to turn on your heel and head for your initiation when Bucky grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards him. He hadn’t showered since he’d been imprisoned so the experience was… startling, but, in that moment, you wouldn’t have escaped his embrace for a million dollars.   
“Thank you,” he whispered, before surpassing you and heading for the door.

You let the door close behind him before wiping away a tear, smoothing down your hair, and returning your cap.

* * *

 

As you’d said, the necessary files were right where you left them on your desk. Bucky rubbed his hands together, invigorated by the promise of redemption and innocence. He sat himself at your desk and began to read.

Most of the documents were things which he had read before. He skipped over the inventory of the robbed ship at first – until he noticed a red circle around a cluster of items. It didn’t require all of his brain power to see that the circled items were those that were stolen; what baffled him was the list of the rest of the cargo. So much expensive equipment and technology… Why take the weapons but not the rest of it? Surely the mole would be helping the criminals earn as much money as possible. If that wasn’t their goal, then what was?

His intrigue had now gotten the better of him and Bucky found himself going over all the seemingly familiar documents with renewed interest. Nothing. No hints. And so he moved on. A new document was a letter to Lavender Downfall. His mouth felt sour at the very mention of her name. Attached to it was a photocopied invoice of payment to Lavender’s bank account, as proved by the documents retrieved from Lavender’s safe with the same account details.

Bucky leaned back as he delved into the letter:

_Dear sister,_

_I finally have it: our opportunity. Finally, a chance to make amends for the death of Simon whose life was cruelly robbed by those fools at SHIELD. I have sent you the necessary funds hire mercenaries that must be ordered to steal something from the organisation. A ship shall passing through the English Channel next week which will contain a wide range of goods._

_Anything will do, but they must take something that would catch their attention without causing too much of a deficit. Fail to catch their attention and we will have missed our opportunity, but leave them floundering and you risk drawing too much. I have attached an inventory of the ship’s contents which I will leave in your capable hands._

_I have two agents in mind to follow up the thievery. Our dear little friend will be one – of course she will be in on the plot – and the Captain’s faithless friend will be the second. Leave a good trail, sister, for we must make this tricky. In one mission our little spy must have enough experience to be inaugurated into the organisation. She will have word from us often, thus making her the only one capable of solving this case and guaranteeing her success. The other will be our scapegoat. After all, with my position I have access to the evidence lockers._

_Here’s to our success, sister,_

_All the best,_

_John Peters._

Bucky’s eyes were wide and all breath had left him. Peters was the mole after all. A high-ranking SHIELD officer who had been responsible for accepting Barnes into the institute. It was no wonder he got in – he was just what they needed.

And then it hit him.

If Peters had access to the evidence locker, he’d be able to retrieved Bucky’s trigger book without raising suspicion. He wouldn’t even need to send it to Lavender to incriminate him. He could just hand it to the only other agent involved, the only person who had been there when the case was solved, and the only person who “witnessed” the book in Lavender’s possession. The person who’d felt guilty about Bucky’s incrimination.

At the bottom of the pile was a hand-written note:   
“Here’s your evidence. I’m so sorry.”

As promised, Bucky realised that the mole hadn’t been him after all.

It was you.


	15. Chapter 15

The initiation, Bucky suddenly realised.

He leapt up from the desk not quite knowing what he was going to do, but knowing that he had to do something. He’d barely left the room before seeing his usual guard looking for him quietly but frantically. Of course, his escape hadn’t been sanctioned – that would’ve involved you turning yourself in.

Bucky bolted to the right, down the corridor but his guard also gave chase and the tension began to thicken. As he ran, Bucky yelled over his shoulder that something was wrong, that something was about to happen that he needed to stop. The guard would hear none of it, continuing pursuit.

Thankfully, Bucky was quicker, faster, and stronger. He tipped over water coolers, and boxes of paperwork; whatever he could to slow down his pursuer. Finally, when he turned around the man was missing. He’d lost him.

Wasting no time, Bucky heads for the ceremony hall, which in reality was the main foyer of the building but with all the tables pushed back and a fold-up stage brought in. Where it had all began, Bucky mused. He didn’t know what you intended to happen, but he had to prevent it. He had to –

The guard came out of nowhere, throwing himself at Bucky and pinning him to the wall. The shock caught him off-guard and he went with the force, his shoulder hitting something that was against the wall. That was going to leave a bruise.

Before he knew what had happened, Bucky was being cuffed and dragged back towards his cell. It was evident that the guard cared more about his reputation (being the guy who allowed the Winter Soldier to get loose was not going to look good on the resume) than listening to reason. No matter how much Bucky tried to explain, this man was not about to hear him.

So close to the entrance to the initiation, he could hear a familiar voice calling you to the stage. Nick Fury. Music began to play and there was no way anybody would hear him now over that and the applause.

He had no choice. Looking up at the wall he had hit, Bucky spotted the thing that had hit his shoulder. A fire alarm. Nothing left to do but reach it.

He kicked. He yelled. He writhed. Bucky did everything in his power until he felt a blissful moment of relief and lurched forward with his hands outstretched.

Bells began to ring and lights began to flash. The ceremony hall became chaotic as the seas of people swarmed for the nearest exits. An incredulous smile peeled onto his face as the guard pinned him once again. This time, Bucky let himself be taken away. He’d done it. For now, he’d stopped your plan.

* * *

 

Bucky turned as soon as he heard the door open and ran to the glass.   
“Steve,” he yelled, “Steve, it wasn’t me! I wasn’t the-” Steve held up a hand, placed a key inside the door, and held it open for his friend to step outside. The first thing Bucky did was wrap his arms around Steve and hold him tightly.   
“We found the files she left out,” Steve said whilst embracing his friend. Deep down, Steve knew it hadn’t been him.

He’d barely finished his sentence before you were dragged into the room and tossed into the cell in Bucky’s place. He stepped backwards as the door was shut and locked, wondering why you didn’t get up. You just lay there on the floor where you’d been thrown, unable to look at him.

Shortly after, John Peters was brought inside and put into a cell of his own. Thankfully, the commotion of the fire alarm had prevented his escape, not that he’d suspected anything until it was too late. As far as he’d been concerned, his plan was watertight until the last minute. From his cell, he screamed and yelled until his voice was hoarse, whereupon he slumped at the edge of the room and shut up.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and bowed his head.   
“I’ll, uh… I’ll give you two a minute.”

Bucky was left to watch you but you made no move until the door clicked shut behind Steve, at which point you crawled into the corner of the room, balled yourself up, and cried.   
“I guess you found your evidence then,” you sniffed.

Bucky had nothing to say to you. You’d lied to him. The entire time, you’d lied about your intentions and even about who you were. How could you do that to him? He’d thought that you were…

Shaking his head, Bucky folded his arms.   
“Yeah, I got your memo,” he growled. “But why tell me at all? Whatever you’d done, it was about to go down and you’d have won. Why jeopardise that?” John Peters screamed at you to be silent, and you winced, but for once, didn’t listen to him.   
“Because I couldn’t let you go down for my mistakes.”

Bucky turned away with a huff.   
“But _why_? Why would you even care?”  
“Because I-” Your words tapered off even though he was hanging on every one of them. “I… can explain. I promise I can, but you have to let me. And I need Steve here too, and whoever else you want to bring, the more witnesses the better. Then I can tell you everything.

Bucky chewed it over. He’d trusted you before and look where that’d got him. He’d been locked up and accused, chased, and humiliated. Now it was your turn. Was he really about to give you a chance to change that?

He sighed and looked at your pleading eyes. He felt his stomach twist and sighed. Of course he was.

* * *

 

Steve agreed to listen to your tale with Bucky. In reality, he was listening to you for the sake of Bucky who, he knew, wasn’t handling the situation as well as perhaps he appeared. However, they were granted the burden of time as the former had requested that Natasha also be brought in for the sake of discerning truth from falsehood. In the meantime, Bucky acted against his better judgement and brought you both food and clean clothes. You said nothing to him other than some quiet thanks.

Eventually, Natasha arrived. She planted herself on a rickety old chair that she’d dragged behind her from the nearest room, daring anyone who questioned her to do something about it. Nobody did, go figure. Bucky was content leaning against the back wall of the room with his arms folded and his face hidden in shadow. Steve stood next to Natasha.

Now that everybody was prepared you suddenly felt far more nervous. Not only did you have John Peters in the next cell over screaming at you to “shut your whore mouth” but you also six pairs of eyes on you. You weren’t familiar with four of them and the two eyes you wished would look at you for some reassurance seemed to be focused everywhere else.

“Okay,” you said, lowering yourself to the floor and sitting cross-legged, “here goes… I don’t know what you know, or what you’ve been told so I’m going to start from the beginning. John Peters organised for his sister, Lavender Downfall, to steal the weapons from the SHIELD ship. He was already in a position of power here and used it to his advantage.” You stopped and took a breath. Judging by their nonchalant expressions, the information was nothing new to them. You thought it best to stick the facts in the hope that they would then verify them and see that you were telling the truth. Any emotion would just… blur the lines.

“I was assigned the mission as his man on the inside, which consequently made me the only person who could solve the case in record time. Whilst we were in Paris, Peters stole the Winter Soldier’s book from the evidence locker and planted it in my desk, ready for me to use once the case was complete. I turned it in along with the results of my mission and Bucky got arrested. Once that was complete, Peters approached me and demanded that I ensure Bucky thought he was guilty. That’s why the whole plot was so melodramatic – if Peters had actually used the book to control you and get what he wanted, there was a chance you’d remember him using it and turning him in. This way, he would be able to play on your insecurities, and you’d incriminate yourself.

“And you _did_ think you were guilty. Unquestioningly. You’d been made into a puppet all over again,” you sighed. “Which made my decision all the more difficult.”

“What decision?” asked Steve. You looked up at him and found yourself unable to discern whether he believed you or not. Bucky still refused to look at you.   
“Whether or not to come clean. You see, Peters had counted on my complete submission. He thought I was his to control. What he hadn’t counted on was my telling Bucky that he was in fact innocent. Planting the doubt of his own guilt was enough, and gave me a bit more time to gather myself together. By the time I’d gathered all of my incriminating evidence, it was time for my initiation. The plan all along had not been to rob SHIELD weapons but to assassinate Nicholas J. Fury. I was supposed to release Bucky and tell him to run away, so that when I killed Fury it would make him the prime suspect.

“I was supposed to pretend to see an aiming laser on Fury’s tie, and tackle him to the ground, seemingly protecting him whilst I’m actually taking him out. Fury dies, seemingly of a sniper attack, and the world’s oldest sniper is loose in the building.”

“But you didn’t,” Steve pointed out. Natasha looked up at him as this was the part of the story she hadn’t been caught up on. “You left your files out on the table: clear for everyone to see.” You nodded.   
“Clear for Bucky to see. I was sure he was the only one who could piece it together in time. I sent him to my office, rather than telling him to run. If Bucky could see that he was truly innocent, by proving to him that _I_ was guilty then he’d be able to do something about it. And he did. Fury is alive thanks to him.”

Bucky turned his head away. You looked down with a glum expression.   
“And if that isn’t cause enough to join your Avengers then I don’t know what is.”

Natasha still had a few more questions for you. Little loose end that she wanted tied up.   
“Why would Peters want Fury dead? HYDRA was cleared out.”   
“Because he’s never sworn allegiance to HYDRA. You’d all be looking for that. No, he was actually SHIELD, and so was his brother until he died on a mission abroad. Peters and Lavender Downfall hold Fury responsible.”

“What about you?” said another voice. It was Bucky. He finally stepped out of the shadows and looked at you. No matter how much you’d wanted him to, now that he was it was tearing at your heart. “You don’t seem like a HYDRA agent either. Not that I would notice…” he snarled.   
“I’m not. They’ve got my dad.”

Nobody saw that coming.

Bucky remembered how fondly you’d talked about the history professor. It also explained why his comment at the top of the Roue de Paris had such an effect on you.   
“I was already applying to SHIELD anyway because, well,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “Captain America was my hero – and my dad’s – so I’ve wanted to be just like him since I was little.” This widened Steve’s eyes a fraction. “Anyway, when Peters decided that he needed someone on the inside, he boosted my application and kidnapped my father. He had everything on me.”

“And that’s why you didn’t take it to anybody sooner,” Steve realised with a worried sigh and a brief glance in another direction. “You couldn’t risk his life.” You couldn’t believe it. Might Steve Rogers actually believe you? The thought numbed the pain in your heart just a little. You might be alright after all…

Bucky, however, seemed less convinced.   
“So what changed that? Why risk his life to save _me_?” Bucky felt as though it was the most obvious question in the world, one that he’d ask a thousand times if he had to.

“Because Bucky, after everything we’ve been through, after all that time we spent together, I-”  
“She didn’t want to see another innocent getting caught up in this mess, like her father,” said Natasha, giving you a hard stare. You blinked. Her gaze never wavered from you and for a moment you felt like she could see into your very soul. Slowly, you nodded in agreement. Bucky looked away and stormed from the room.

“She’s telling the truth,” Natasha Romanoff relayed to Steve, who nodded before smiling curtly at you and following Bucky out of the room. You knew they were going to inform Fury but at the same time you worried about what Bucky thought of you. Surely he could understand why you hadn’t told him. But then again, you also understood why he felt betrayed.

“How… Why would you cover for me like that?” You asked Natasha, the only other person left in the room. She looked at you with curiosity, kneeling down by the glass so that she was on your level, looking you right in the eye.   
“Because I know what it’s like to fall for a man you think you don’t deserve,” she smiled half-heartedly. You didn’t get a chance to ask her who she was talking about before she stood and left the room, promising you that she’d be in touch.


	16. Chapter 16

The train station was at the very edge of the city and thus quieter than perhaps other stations. Natasha peered inside the top of your backpack.   
“Only the essentials?” She asked and you nodded, playing with the hem of your shirt.   
“As per your request… and that list that you gave me,” you chuckled. Your release had to be kept under wraps as best as possible to avoid Lavender Downfall catching wind that things had gone wrong. Natasha had made sure that John had spilled all his little secrets so that they knew how to communicate with her and keep her in the dark. In fact, Natasha had adopted the case as her own and ensured that its end would be smooth. She’d sanctioned your release and pleaded your case, and then housed you herself whilst plans were made for the future.

“Remember,” Natasha said, tightening the straps of your small backpack, “whilst you’re on the run, she won’t do anything permanent to your father. You’re a liability when she’s got no control over you and at the minute she thinks she still does. Should something happen and she makes contact with you, then remember. You have the upper hand. You know what they’ve done and the world does not. If she wants it to stay that way, she’ll keep him safe. After all, her career is built upon her public persona. Remind her of that.”

“But this is all in case something goes wrong.” You asked. “Nothing is going to go wrong, right?”   
“We’re going to do our best,” Natasha stated bluntly, placing her hands on the collar of your shirt. You knew she meant well by being honest but it didn’t remove the sour taste in your mouth. “We’re only human and there’s always a chance it will go wrong, but we’re going to do our best to find her, and your father.”

You sucked in a deep breath and smiled as best you could. It wasn’t like you to be this scared but in retrospect you were going to be alone – really alone – for the first time in a while. You’d never properly been trained by SHIELD, having been prematurely promoted, and even then you’d had a partner…

Natasha left you with a brief hug, surpassing Bucky as she made for the stairs to the main platform. He was leaning against the staircase with a conflicted look on his face. You weren’t sure he’d want to speak to you, and you weren’t too keen on talking to him either. After everything you’d put him through, there was nothing to be said.

However, as you turned to board the waiting train, he called your name and crossed the platform. Even once he’d reached your side, he didn’t say anything for a moment. You took it upon yourself to speak instead.   
“Are you mad?” you whispered.   
“About what?”  
“Everything. Lying to you, framing you…”  
“No, I’m not mad. Not any more.”

“Then would you do me a favour?” you asked, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your purse. You retrieved a very worn photo of a smiling man in spectacles. Your arm was around him and you too were grinning like he’d never seen. “Find him, for me. Keep him safe. If you free him, then you free me, and after that…” You words trailed off. You’d not thought about the future in a long time.

“After that?” Bucky asked, leaning slightly into your face. You could feel his gentle, hopeful breaths on the bridge of your nose and it warmed your cheeks.   
“After that… I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m free to do whatever I want. With whomever I want.”  
“Whomever,” Bucky repeated, getting a lost expression in his eyes. He bowed his head and his gaze then fell upon the picture left in your purse, which had apparently been tucked behind the picture of your dad.

“What’s that?” He asked, prying the purse from your hands and looking closer at it. Your eyes widened and you looked away, trying to look casual.   
“Oh, just… a photo. When we were waiting in line for Roue de Paris and-”  
“You took that picture on your phone, I remember.”  
“I just liked the way the lights looked in the background, the way they made our eyes light up.”

Bucky looked at the dim lights of the ferris wheel in the background and mused that the lights weren’t bright enough to be the sole reason your eyes were shimmering that night. _Could it be…?_

The tannoy called out for final boarding, and you took your purse back. Bucky thought about the feel of your fingers on his. Shoving the purse into your pocket, you turned around and were about to make for the train when something stopped you. You peered over your shoulder at Bucky.   
“That day when I let you out… you held me.”   
“Yes, I did.”

It felt too sincere to mean nothing, at least to you.   
“Did you ever…?”  
“What? No. I guess I was just caught up in the moment.”

You nodded and stepped up onto the train, leaving your heart on the platform. Your stomach was turning circle upon circle and it took every ounce of your strength not to let out a tear. You asked yourself a question you’d only asked yourself once before, when you were in your flat, living with Bucky Barnes: why did he have this effect on you? _Could it be…?_

Finding a window seat, you placed your back in the chair next to you and looked out through the glass. Bucky was still stood on the platform. Waiting. Watching. You gave him a nervous wave and it seemed to surprise him. At the same time he became pensive, suddenly coming to some sort of conclusion.

Bucky jogged to the window just as the train engine began to chug into life. You rolled down the window and leaned out as steam billowed onto the platform and surrounded him. It started to move sluggishly away from the platform and Bucky walked to keep up.   
“What are you doing?” you yelled. Bucky leapt onto the side of the train and held onto the edge of the window. He leaned into your face and whispered:  
“Getting caught in the moment again,” before placing his lips over yours.

Bucky was forced to drop back onto the platform as the train picked up speed and left the station but his eyes never left yours as the train carried you into the distance. You leant out the window for as long as you could see him and reciprocated the gentle wave that he sent your way, before falling back into your seat, pulling up your hood, and smiling to yourself.

The train chugged and chugged, seemingly forever, and whisked you away from Bucky Barnes until the day that you would next see him.


	17. Chapter 17

The building was dark, damp, and dusty. Grey walls met a grey floor where little puddles formed on account of the dripping pipes that ran along the equally grey ceiling. Perhaps it was grey due to the fact that there was little to no light in the room. It didn’t matter. Where sunlight had managed to claw its way into the building, swirling seas of dusty particulates circled in cyclones to the puddle-y floor.

Natasha and Steve navigated the corridors well despite the gloominess engulfing them. Steve took the lead, stepping forward slowly with only the top of his head visible from behind his shield. Natasha kept her eye focused through the scope of her rifle as they moved further into the building.

“Anything?” Natasha whispered.  
“Nothing.”

It had taken Natasha enough time to pry any details from Peters regarding how their operation was being run. It took even longer for her to get out of him their base of operations and thus where your father was being held. Hours and hours of interrogation that involved simply sitting with Peters and making him feel uncomfortable. He spoke on his own about nonsense and trivial things. Then he became frantic and began to insult her, shouting and screaming. Natasha remained silent. Eventually, however, the gruelling, lengthy, yet quiet technique paid off. He shared the address willingly. The extraction could proceed.

Sickeningly yellow light flashed and flickered into the corridor, and Steve turned swiftly, holding his shield high. Natasha smirked at him, removing her finger from the newly discovered light switch. Steve frowned and lowered his shoulder a moment, wishing she’d given him some sort of warning. After recovering, he noticed that they’d walked past a door that was broken off of its hinges which the light now allowed them to see.

Steve peered around the edge of the splintered door. Light from the corridor spilled into the room and bounced off a narrow metal cylinder. Several metal cylinders. _Bars_. After indicating that Natasha should sweep the room, he began to creep further into the shadows at the centre of the room. At the furthest corner, was a thin, wiry man with round spectacles on his head. Was this their man?

At the sight of a shadow blocking the light in the doorway, Steve spun around sharply with his shield raised. Bucky held up his hands. He sighed.  
“Buck… A little forewarning next time.”  
“Sorry.”

In his leftmost raised hand, Bucky held a crumpled photo that he examined as he stepped into the room.  
“Mr (Y/l/n)…?” He said nervously and the shivering man turned like a startled deer, like he hadn’t heard his own name in time immemorial.

“(Y/n),” he muttered with a quivering jaw. That was enough for Bucky. With his hands outstretched into the darkness, Bucky stepped through the room towards the bars until his hands hit them, at which point, he began to bend them, using all his strength. Steve couldn’t be sure if the sight of a metal-armed man pulling apart two metal bars would terrify or impress your father. Looking at the surrounding area, his captors’ hospitality was not to be admired.

“I wouldn’t keep a rat in this place,” Steve muttered as he helped Bucky lifted the fragile man to his feet through the newly formed hole. His clothes were brown and dripping with dirt. He walked like he hadn’t walked before. Perhaps it was the result of his isolated mind, but he continued to murmur your name – quite frantically, Steve was reluctant to admit.

In his cell, there were cardboard boxes that were worn enough to be soft. Littering the nearby ground were empty pots and cans from previous meals but that had begun to offer alternative uses when the prisoner’s bladder wouldn’t hold. The thought made Steve sick. He also wanted to cry for him. What had this poor man been through?

“She’s not here,” Natasha announced, appearing – seemingly out of nowhere – at their side with her gun on her shoulder. “Lavender’s missing.”  
“But where could she have possible gone?”

Your father continued to mutter your name, now getting louder and louder.  
“Yes,” Natasha assured him, patting his shoulder from a comfortable distance, “it’s okay. Your daughter sent us. She’s okay.”

“No…” He grunted, shaking his head so hard he almost stumbled. “My daughter… She’s in danger.”

* * *

 

The Cambodian jungle was not kind. It was harsh and wet and warm and the sweat on your skin didn’t leave you quick enough to cool you down. You ran through the brush as fast as your legs would carry you, a kaleidoscope of emerald and brown rushing past you; hot faced, moist with sweat, and with prickling pain in your lungs.

Your legs were beginning to sting as you leapt over a log, and kept going. Creepers and thin leaves whipped and cut at your, letting little pink lashes decorate your skin. It seemed like the jungles in Ratanakiri were never-ending. You couldn’t be sure you’d made any distance. It didn’t matter; so long as you kept ahead of her.

How? How had she found you? Your location was supposed to be fluid and dynamic, impossible to pin down, yet there she was. Lavender had turned up at your flat unannounced wielding a pair of knifes, forcing you out the window as your only means of escape. You’d taken the precaution of only settling on the ground floor in case of such a scenario. Now you were on the run, and she was right behind you. You realised that you didn’t care how she found you, just so long as you could get away and try again.

As you ran, you strained your ears to try and pinpoint her footsteps. They were definitely there but you couldn’t pinpoint her. Was she behind you? Or was she flanking you, ready for a surprise attack? The sound of the dripping jungle and its inhabitant wildlife were blurring the sound – as well as thick chopping sound.

A… helicopter?

You passed through an area of the forest where the jungle canopy thinned and looked up. Your pulse quickened at the sight of the familiar letter ‘A’ passing overhead on the underbelly of the copter. You didn’t want to get your hopes up but did let out a small smile. If you could get to somewhere open enough for them to land, you might survive this thing.

Bucky leant out of the helicopter and his hair whipped wildly. Iron Man was sweeping the ceiling of the forest but neither of them were succeeding – until he saw a shadow pass through an area of the foliage where the leaves were thin.  
“There!” He yelled, pointing, and the helicopter swerved.

By the time Natasha had navigated the helicopter with your path, you’d disappeared from sight. Instead, a familiar set of golden curls tore through the brush like a leopard, racing after you with glittering silver claws. She intended to kill you. Bucky was not about to let that happen. Following Bucky’s direction, Iron Man dove into the jungle and began his pursuit from the ground, intent on taking Lavender out before she could do as much to you.

Scrambling through the undergrowth, you felt as though you might be making distance when your foot sunk into a ditch and your ankle curved. You hit the hard soil and grunted. It wasn’t ideal but you didn’t let it stop you, limping forward as fast you could. The sound of frantic feet behind you made your heart race. She was getting closer.

In the distance, you could see the wall of the forest disappear, revealing instead a large rushing river that cut across your path, only navigable by a rickety looking log that stretched between the two sides. There was a good 2 feet drop between the log and the river. Little waves licked the bottom of the bark as the river splashed and chopped its way past. It was the only way forward.

You stepped onto the log and heard Lavender’s knives cut through the bush behind you. Her hair was frantic and she wore no make-up, revealing the crazed look in her eyes as she leered closer with her blades readied.  
“Got you,” she snarled.

You couldn’t turn your back to her, lest she put a knife in it, meaning that you’d been forced to walk backwards onto a slippery log with a twisted ankle (as if crossing it moving forwards wouldn’t have been difficult enough). You raised your hands.  
“Please,” you whimpered. You had no problem begging for your life. “Please I don’t want any trouble.”

Lavender didn’t seem to care as she gripped her knife a little tighter and closed in on you. The rushing of water filled your ears like thunder. Step by painful step, you back further onto the log with the blonde closing in.

Thankfully, help arrived, in the form of Iron Man, who stepped out of the jungle with his blasters raised.  
“Ma’am, please drop your weapon,” came his voice from within. For a moment, nobody reacted to one another, until Lavender turned and lunged at you. Instinct kicked in and you raise your arms in a futile form of self-defence, but she grabbed one of your wrists and elegantly pulled you in front of her. All that dancing must have been akin to martial arts as you had no idea how she’d pulled such a feat off without slipping.

Wasn’t this an interesting turn of events? Lavender stood with an arm around your waist and a knife to your throat. Iron Man was still trying to aim at her, and you were really hoping that you didn’t slip off of the precariously situated log that bridged a rapid river.  
“Shoot me and you shoot her. Come near me and I kill her myself,” Lavender threatened, slowly beginning to pull you along as she shuffled back towards the other side of the river. If Lavender reached the jungle on the other side, Lavender would make her escape and then kill you. If Iron Man tried to stop her, he’d kill you. This was looking nowhere near good. Everywhere was certain death.

Well, not everywhere.

Doing the only thing you could think of to save your own skin, you threw your head (and neck) back into Lavender’s nose. As she recoiled, you ducked down to the ground, allowing Iron Man to fire and propel Lavender’s body into the gloomy jungle… before you promptly lost your balance, slid off of the wet wood, and crashed into the water beneath. The current swept you away immediately.

Tony lifted his suit and swore profusely.  
“Friday, put the suit in Rubber Ducky mode.”  
“Rubber Ducky?” Steve asked over the coms.  
“When you invent a sophisticated, flying suit of armour that also works underwater, you can name it whatever you want.”

Tony’s suit beeped and whirred as it quickly prepared itself for a swim – until something dropped from the sky and splashed into the water.  
“What in god’s name was-”

Bucky’s head burst from the water and he gasped for air before recovering and diving back beneath the surface of the water. The current pulled him in too and soon enough, he’d caught up to you, floating aimlessly through the crystalline water, with your head only just bobbing above the surface. You struggled to catch breaths.

He latched his metal arm onto yours and felt the gears whir as it tightened around your wrist. There’d be no losing you to the water. Yet despite how hard he kicked, the current was too strong. You combined your forces and kicked like billy-o but to no avail. Your right ankle was knackered and the stream fought back too hard. You were carried even further downstream.

Giving up on kicking, you used your free arm and dug your nails into the plates of Bucky’s arm, pulling yourself closer to him as you did so. With a bit of effort, you were close enough to him that he was able to hold you against himself with his left arm and paddle with his left. You grasped his shirt under the water with pruning, shivering fingers.  
“Bucky!” you yelled above the roaring water, having made the mistake of peering behind you. He turned and you pointed.

You were nearing a waterfall. Typical.

In a sudden change of tactic, Bucky heaved you behind him as he lunged for the nearest bank. He reached out a hand – and grunted as his fingers hit mud and you were halted abruptly. You were surprised it hadn’t pulled his arm right out of his socket! You could see his cheek hollowing were his jaw was gritted, and you endeavoured to hold the bank too in an attempt to alleviate some of the strain.

Although your holds were firm, you could feel the current dragging you slowly but surely closer to the edge, leaving small claw marks in the clay. He turned to look at you, perhaps acknowledging you for the first time since he’d hit the water. You kicked your legs furiously for a while until you realised how little it was doing. You met his gaze with wide eyes.  
 “You came back,” you yelled over the tumultuous splashing.  
“Of course I did!” He yelled back.

You both let out bashful smiles, and you felt like you might cry. Bucky pulled closer still and rested his forehead against yours. You placed your free hand on his cheek. If this was to be it, then so be it.

Thankfully, Tony Stark interrupted as was his forte.

The Iron Man suit packed a punch as it hit your gut and swept you into the air. You were flown high, high, high into the sky and handed to Steve in the chopper before he went back for Bucky. A blanket was draped over your shoulders and Steve pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, telling you that you were safe, that it was over.

“You need to eat less,” Tony grunted as he threw Bucky into the chopper. He was also administered a blanket, after which he started the slow crawl to your side. Flopping down in the space next to you, Bucky pulled you into his lap and let you feed off of each other’s growing warmth. You clung to his shirt again and smiled wearily.  
“You came back…”

Steve patted Nat’s shoulder as she dipped the nose of the chopper and pushed it onward.  
“She’s gonna need medical,” he said, spying the lacerations on your chin, shoulder, and forehead – likely from the rocks in the lake. The helicopter chugged into the distance.

A lonely cobra slithered through the undergrowth until it came to the edge of the rushing river. It felt fading warmth under its scales and began to circle its prey. The creature made no effort to stop the cobra, nor did it seem to acknowledge its presence and so it was permitted to encircle its victim many times before it had no tail left to twirl. Eventually, the cobra sunk its teeth into the pale flesh of its prey. A king cobra’s venom can deliver a dose of venom between 200g and 500g. It targets central nervous system, incites severe pain, blurred vision, vertigo, drowsiness, and eventually paralysis. If the shots from Iron Man’s blasters didn’t kill Lavender Downfall, the bite of the snake that found her body would.


	18. Chapter 18

You sat on the bed with your arm outstretched as a redheaded nurse patched up a cut on your arm. She’d already attended to the cuts on your head but spent most of her time bandaging a particularly worrying laceration along your arm. You blamed your ignorance to it on the adrenaline of the moment.

Natasha leant across the doorway with her legs crossed over and her arms folded.   
“You did good, kid,” she said with a gentle smile.   
“Thanks.” Since your partnership with Bucky began, you’d interacted with several of the Avengers, including Captain America, and Iron Man. The Black Widow seemed to have taken a shine to you; maybe it was the double agent angle that she appreciated – either way you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

The nurse secured your bandage and deemed you fit and able to leave. You thanked her quietly and put your hands in your lap. Natasha watched you for a minute and deliberated how you were feeling.   
“We… found your dad,” she said and your face lit up.   
“You did?”  
“I told you we’d try.”

You nodded and chewed your lip.   
“I just assumed… when Lavender came for me I thought that it was the sign she’d killed him and come for me.”  
“We don’t know why she left him alive. I guess failure affects judgement. I wouldn’t know all that much about it,” she smirked. You smiled weakly at her joke. She lowered herself onto the bed next to you.   
“Thank you. I should’ve said that first: thank you.”  
“All in a day’s work.”

“Can I see him?” you asked but Natasha shook his head.   
“He’s not great. You could go and see him I guess but I’m thinking it would just upset you. Nurses are really positive though; he’ll be okay but it’s just going to take time.”

You nodded slowly and looked down at your lap again, giving a gentle sigh. It _was_ over. Finally. It was all over. You were free.   
“What happens now then?” You asked.   
“You’ve got a surprise in the foyer.”

Natasha had to help you take your first few steps. Your swim in Cambodia had exhausted your muscles inordinately. Thankfully, once you’d crossed the rooms, they were warmed enough that you were able to limp along on your own.

Natasha held open the door and you stepped into the foyer – where tumultuous applause ensued. Everywhere you looked, people were smiling and clapping, and even cheering. SHIELD uniforms gathered around you to pat you on the back and thus you were guided forward through the sea of smart ties and pant suits. Natasha was left behind.

At the centre of the room, a foldaway stage had been set up and an eerily familiar face stood on it with his arms behind his back and the ghost of a smile on his face. You were pushed up onto the stage and the cheers continued for a few moments after until Nicky Fury called for silence by raising his hands.

“As many of you will know, this woman here is a traitor.” You bowed your head. “She was assigned a mission which she could not fail as she was working for the man responsible. It just so happened that this man was also one of us. He’d orchestrated the entire heist and then tasked her to solve it so that she would be initiated into SHIELD, getting her close enough to kill me.”

There were murmurs amongst the crowd. You could feel your heart in your chest and couldn’t make eye-contact with anything but the floor.   
“However, what some of you perhaps didn’t know was that she was also responsible for apprehending this villain. She turned on him and exposed his scheme, at the risk of being incriminated alongside him.”

Gentle clapping turned into applause once more, though cut short once more by Nick Fury beginning to speak again. You were grateful that he hadn’t mentioned your father. An agent joined him on the stage holding a black felt box.   
“It is a truth universally known that an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division is ambitious, is unruly, and is incredible.” Fury pulled a medal out of the black felt box and dismissed the agent holding it. “Thus I am recognising that a double agent who can successfully infiltrate and sustain cover within such an organisation whilst also managing to undercut those making them is probably twice as much of an agent as anybody else.”

Nick Fury placed the medal around your neck and fastened it. Applause ensured once more and you looked out across the room with tears prickling in your eyes. You look to where you left Natasha and saw her clapping cheerily for you with a smile on her face. Next to here were Steve and Tony, hooting, hollering and whistling.

Bucky was looking right at you. He clapped loudly and beamed up at you. When he noticed you looking at him, he waved gently. You bit your lip and smiled at you.

* * *

 

~*~ 3 months later ~*~

You threw yourself forward and hit the foam tackling shield held up by Janet, your training partner. She grunted as you hit her, throwing all your weight into the lunge and eventually she toppled and hit the mat.

Nick Fury had personally authorised your reinstating as a SHIELD agent, so long as you agreed to go through the same application and training process as any other agent. You were more than happy. It was what you’d wanted all along.

Janet’s head hit the mat but thankfully she grinned.   
“You okay?” You asked from on top of her. She was still gripping the tackling sack which you rolled off of.   
“You’re getting tougher,” she said. “That’s good.”

After Jan had pushed the sack off of her, you offered her a hand and pulled her up.   
“We’ll swap roles tomorrow and give you a go.”   
“Sounds good to me.”

The training leader blew his whistle and signalled the end of the session. You said goodbye to Jan and made for your sports bag in the corner. Pulling out a towel, you wiped the sweat from your brow and took a swig from your water bottle. You’d worked hard. The cool water felt incredible running down your throat.

You did a couple of stretches to cool down and your muscles ached. If you didn’t have plans, you’d have gone home for a shower. Shouldering your sports bag and made for the door. A couple of people were still trickling out of the training hall but the corridor was busy.

Bucky was leaning against the opposite wall, but stood up as soon as he saw you leave.   
“Hi,” you said. He smiled.   
“Hi.”

* * *

 

“Dad, what do you fancy for dinner?” You yelled over your shoulder. After a minute or two, there came a tired response. He’d been napping and you hadn’t wanted to wake him but at the same time you both needed food.

“I… could eat something… spicy.” Bursting into a smile, you eyed up the leftover curry you’d potted up the other day.   
“Perfect.”

You father had been discharged from the hospital a few days ago and had since come to live with you where you’d taken it upon yourself to care for him. Thankfully, he didn’t need much attention – just a comfortable bed and lots of rest. You’d set him up with your Netflix account and allowed him to catch up on whatever he wanted. He was particularly fond of the new Series of Unfortunate Events, but then again, he’d liked anything with Joan Cusack.

Pulling the Tupperware box out of your fridge, you made for the microwave when you heard a knocking at your door. Instinct kicked in and you grabbed your gun. It took a minute for you to register the action, after which you sucked in a deep breath, dropping the gun back onto the counter as you exhaled.

Bucky turned and smiled as you opened the door. You furrowed your brow, confused, until you spied the white plastic bag in his hand.   
“Just because I don’t live here now, doesn’t mean you get to go back to leftovers and excessive cleaning.”

You smirked and bit your lip, kicking your carpet softly. It had been so long since you’d let anybody close that the thought of someone knowing about your home life and wanting to improve it… Well, it made your heart happy, you told yourself.

Bucky and yourself weren’t technically official yet, but he was making an effort where you were reserved (if you were being honest, you hadn’t forgiven yourself for what you did to him). You’d been a few casual dates and grown slowly more comfortable with romancing one another. The thought of him doing something so domestically inclined warmed your cheeks.

Whilst your gaze was low, you noticed that he didn’t have just one bag, but two.   
“That’s… a lot of food for 3 people,” you noted. Bucky frowned slightly and let out a nervous chuckle.   
“Yeah, about that,” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. Footsteps clattered up your apartment block staircase and a familiar face appeared over the railing.

Steve greeted you warmly, before turning around and beckoning the others to follow him.   
“Sorry to barge in,” he sighed, gesturing to a 6-pack of alcohol he was carrying as if it was some form of apology. Natasha was next to arrive. She pushed past Bucky and wrapped her arm around your neck, tousling your hair.   
“I’m not sorry,” she smiled. “Good to see you, kid.”

Eventually everybody trickled inside and Bucky closed the door behind him. He held the bag of food at arm’s length and a muscular man with dirty blonde hair appeared out of nowhere and swiped it. Natasha berated ‘Clint’ before attempting to wrestle the food out of his grasp. Bucky ran a hand through his hair.   
“I was going to surprise you with food, but as soon as they heard me ordering it, they wanted in.”  
“It’s okay,” you said, looking at your flat at the busiest it had ever been. When you realised that you actually _knew_ all of these people, that they were truly your friends, it was the closest you’d come to crying in a long time.

Bucky noticed the look on your face and touched the side of your hand with his smallest finger. Sensing no signal from you to withdraw, he took the action a step further and slipped his palm inside yours. He felt your fingers tentatively curl around his hand and squeeze. You didn’t have to meet his eyes for him to see that you were grateful.

Your dad had shuffled into the room shortly after. It occurred to you when you saw the wide-eyed expression on his face that you’d never told him that you knew Captain America. Registering that Bucky’s hand was still in yours, it also occurred to you that you hadn’t told him about _that_ either. Tonight was going to be full of surprises, apparently.

* * *

 

The food had eventually been served and everyone clamoured to find a space around your television set. You made a mental note to buy some foldaway furniture. Maybe you’d invest in an actual dining table…

Everybody had a film that they wanted to watch and after a few minutes of arguing, you compromised by suggesting an impromptu all-nighter. So long as Clint got to watch Ferris Bueller, it seemed he was content.

The clock chimed 11. The TV was off. A gentle snore rung in the room.

Your father and Steve had been chatting up a storm non-stop all night, and they continued to do so over a beer at the kitchen island. You could hear the gentle lull of their conversation, punctuated only by small bouts of laughter from them. It seemed your father was intent on learning everything single thing about his childhood hero, in return for helping him catch up on the last few decades of important history.

Aside from them, it seemed that you and Bucky were the only ones awake. Clint and Natasha lay head-to-toe on the floor with a few blankets and cushions that they’d borrowed from your bedroom forming a makeshift bed on the carpet. Tony was curled up in the armchair, his arms folded on the arm with his head atop them.

You and Bucky had taken the sofa, where a blanket was stretched across your lap. It hadn’t taken long for you to explain your… predicament to your father. He seemed more intent on interacting with Cap than he did on discussing your relationship with the Winter Soldier. So long as he was aware, you were happy.

Underneath the fluffy blanket, you had looped your index finger around Bucky’s pinky. You lay against his side, resting your head on his shoulder. It wasn’t like you to be intimate, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that you had nothing to hide from him anymore. 3 months later and you’d think that your freedom would be more apparent.

“Do you… remember the last time we ate Chinese food and watched television together?” He said softly so as not to wake anyone. Tony snuffled in his sleep.   
“Was it… the stakeout? When we were watching-” you choked on her name. The thought of everything she’d put you through was enough to prickle your vision with water.   
“ _Her_. Yeah.” Bucky wasn’t too keen on her image either. The thought of the scene you’d described in the hotel room that night… He didn’t want to think about whether it was a tall tale you’d invented for the sake of the mission, or whether you’d actually been forced to do what you’d described. The fact that the latter option was even possible sickened him.

“Wait, wait a minute, didn’t you and I do this last week? When dad was with the doctors?”   
“No, that was Thai food.”  
“Ah.”

“If I’d have thought back then that in a few months’ time I’d be… like this with you, I’d have too giddy to walk.”   
“Somehow,” you smirked, picturing the way his brooding and fierce demeanour from previous missions, “I can’t picture that.”  
“That should tell you how big of a deal it would’ve been then,” he chuckled. You felt your face going warm. You couldn’t imagine anybody thinking that much of you.

“Did you know all the way back then?” You suddenly asked, looking up at him. Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked everywhere but at you. “You did!” You squealed, sitting upright. You were forced to be silent when Clint grunted and wriggled in his sleep. Natasha grunted also, but only because Clint had put his foot on her shoulder.

“I… had no idea,” you whispered, pulling yourself away from him. Guilt crept into your stomach once more.   
“It was probably in Paris actually,” he sighed and your eyes widened further, “when you took me up the Roue de Paris. Nobody has ever done anything like that for me.”  
“I see.”   
“Everything sort of manifested from there. When I found you with those guys in that Paris alley, I got mad like I’ve never felt before. I may have been feeling it since the Roue but I realised it then. So, when I saw that you’d kept the picture from when we were standing in line… I thought that it meant something.”

“And then you kissed me. On the train.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. He hummed and admitted that he might have been a bit rash. You shook your head and returned to his side, sitting yourself more comfortably and nesting your head into his neck. With a peaceful sigh, he placed his head on top of yours.

His eyes came to rest on the window at the front of the room. With a sleepy smile, he remembered the image of you that he’d concocted in his head when he’d spotted you conducting research on Lavender’s house.   
“You didn’t want to live here forever did you?” He asked, cogs beginning to whir inside his head.   
“No, but I never had any reason to leave.”

* * *

 

Sapphire waves lapped against the sands like a kitten sipping milk. It pawed and played with the golden granules, and left sea foam to melt in the dying daylight. The sky was hues of pink and orange, smudged by thin yellow clouds, and the sun sunk behind the horizon of the beach, waving goodnight to all humanity so that her sister might light up the night in her place.

Your house sat upon the top of the cliff overlooking this beach, and the view was just perfect. It was a new build, funded by a newly promoted SHIELD officer. It just so happened that there was an administrative job that had recently opened up and you’d succeeded in securing it. The pay wage was fantastic. Avengers didn’t have the luxury of a regular pay check, however. Bucky relied predominantly on your wage and made ends meet where he could. It was only when your dad stopped teaching in favour of setting up a small greengrocer’s nearby that Bucky found a part-time job that understood his… unique schedule. It was nice having your dad nearby. It was also nice that he got along with Bucky so well, although you suspected that once he’d gotten everything he wanted to know out of Steve, your partner would be the next victim of his interrogations.

You stretched as you walked into the conservatory and spied the amber sunset through the long glass windows. You let out a small sigh in contentment, folding your arms and admiring the view.

Bucky appeared in the room and stepped in front of you.   
“Look out,” he smirked, cupping your cheeks and sweeping you into a kiss. It was sweet and tender, lasting only a moment, but it was enough to make you smile once he’d pulled away. Eventually, he disappeared again and you took a seat at the wicker chair by the window. It creaked pleasantly as you sat down in it, and even more so as you leant over the arm and reached for small satchel nearby.  

With a mug of coffee in each hand, Bucky returned to the room and his mouth parted just a fraction. This was it. This was exactly what he’d picture. You sat wearing shorts and a shirt, with your feet up on a red embroidered stool. You looked casually through a pair of binoculars, birdwatching along the coastline, and feeling completely at ease with the world. He admired the sight and sighed, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

Bucky wandered closer, making sure to take as many seconds as possible to drink in his fantasy. He leaned over you to place your coffee on the table beside you. As he did so, you looked up at him and smiled, genuine affection in your eyes and his heart hammered. He couldn’t stop himself and captured your mouth with his own for a kiss teeming with desire. When he pulled away, his lips beckoned yours to follow him and the kiss lingered for a moment. He leant in and pressed his forehead against yours. Both of your mouths were open to accommodate the heavy breaths you were now taking.   
“I adore you,” he breathed, voice sullen and lascivious. Your heart jumped.

Eventually, Bucky was forced to pull away. He retreated to his own chair and pulled his current reading book out from underneath. Deciding that his lap would probably be more comfortable than the stool, you transferred your feet and Bucky accepted the change by draping a free hand over your calves and stroking circles into your skin.

After a few minutes of reading in silence, Bucky looked up and sighed yet again.   
“I was thinking that we could look at getting a dog,” he said nonchalantly. You tore your eyes away from the binoculars and chewed your lip. You could picture the two of you walking along the beach hand in hand whilst your dog ran laps around the sand. Was this it? Was this what it felt like to be totally free?  
“I… I think I’d like that.”

Almost immediately, you both returned to what you were doing. Bucky turned a page on his book. You spotted a cormorant diving beneath the waves. The sun set around your home and as night came to pass, all was well in the world.


End file.
